A Life Redirected
by Dawn N
Summary: A family tragedy during a hunt redirects the lives of the Winchester's in a way they could have never predicted. Will be AU.
1. Shifting in the Light

Disclaimer: the characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**NOTE TO READER:** Finally, the long hiatus between my last story and this story is over. Thanks in advance for all the PM's I have received asking me to post something new. Thank you! Well, here we go again. I had an idea, well, actually I've had a few while on hiatus since finishing "The Edge of Madness," and now that my schedule isn't exactly lighter, but perhaps minutely accommodating to writing now and again I have started a new chapter story. Now, I should tell you that I've been writing this in my free time, so it will mostly be mostly all written or perhaps even complete by the time this chapter is posted. I just don't have the time to keep up with regular updates, so I've opted to try to complete stories before posting the first chapter rather than make you wait forever between chapters, so at least this way I can post regularly without having to actually write because it's all ready done.

At any rate, I hope you enjoy this newest story. This story may different than what you're used to reading from me. It's not laden with tons and tons of angst, although there is angst for a few chapters here and there, especially the beginning. I just had an idea I wanted to run with and get out of my system, so here it is. Also, I already have several new stories begging to be written and when I can I will write them.

Happy reading, I hope!

**A Life Redirected**

**Chapter One: **

**Shifting in the Light**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_There's no time for us, there's no place for us, what is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us …It's all decided for us, this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us…"_ Excerpt from _Who Wants To Live Forever_, by Queen

**December 10, 1994, Mile Lacs Lake, Outside Wealthwood, Minnesota**

"Sammy, you do as I say," John ordered as he tossed Dean a gear bag. The fifteen year-old caught it easily.

"You heard Dad," Dean chimed in. "This water wraith is too much for your gangly eleven year-old ass to handle."

"Bite me," Sam made a face at his big brother.

"Boys," John's tone was warning. "And, Dean, I don't recall asking for your two cents either." Dean dropped his eyes.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "Sorry," he muttered quietly under his breath.

"Look Sammy, I just don't want you getting hurt, okay?" John offered a mild smile. "This Water Wraith is going against pattern and is frequenting a frozen lake rather than a body of water that isn't. And, it's been causing thin ice in areas where they thought it was safe and thick. And, last weekend several people fell through while skating on the other side of this lake when it should have been frozen at least five to six feet deep. Dean and I got this one. I want you to wait here."

John had decided the best way to rid the water Wraith of this lake would be to use an ancient ritual that involved using a dried and ground up seaweed from the Irish sea and once introduced into the water through a hole in the ice along with an incantation the Water Wraith would be expelled and forced into open air out of water where it would die almost instantly. John was thankful an old contact had been able to acquire the needed seaweed powder, and now all they had to do was put the powder in the lake and say the incantation. He had done his homework and made sure the ice was thick, but in an area where it wasn't more than four feet deep below should the Wraith show up and mutate the ice causing it to soften and break suddenly.

**Twenty-Minutes Later**

Sam stood on the shoreline and watched his brother and father further down shore out on the water preparing the ritual. "Not fair," he mumbled. He put his foot onto the frozen water edge and slid his foot around playing with the slickness. Sam wanted nothing more than to finish this job because his father had promised him that they'd spend the next couple weeks or so at Pastor Jim's down in Blue Earth and would spend Christmas there. And, as soon as the Wraith was dead they'd leave for Pastor Jim's in Blue Earth about 60 miles away. Sam glanced down the shoreline and saw that his brother and father were still taking care of the ritual. He ventured onto the edge with both feet and scooted around. He'd scoot from ice to ground and back again as he entertained himself.

The ice was crystal clear in most places and would cloud as the ice edged out toward deeper water. He could see little fish swimming below the frozen surface in the unfrozen water lying beneath. He spotted one fish in particular and without thinking he began to scoot out further following the fish until it disappeared into the deeper water beneath. Sam noticed he had managed to trail out a good forty feet from the shoreline. "Crap, Dad will have my butt if he sees me out here," he complained. He started to shuffle on the ice with his hiking boots toward the shore when a light of some sort caught his eye beneath the surface, and suddenly he realized too late, it was the Wraith. He spun his head toward his father and brother's direction out on the lake and spotted his father depositing the powder and Dean read the incantation from a piece of paper. There was a bright flash of light that exploded beneath the surface and Sam saw water spray up through the hole his father had created and dissipated into mist quickly.

But, the Wraith left a parting gift and Sam knew instantly he was in trouble. He heard the breaking beneath and he watched in rapt awe as the cold water below seemed to gravitate toward the surface. The ice was thinning rapidly and Sam had a moment to call out. "Dad!" he yelled as loud as he could and John and Dean both jerked at the sound of Sam's urgent call. They turned just in time to see the large hole open up and Sam disappeared beneath the surface of the icy water. They both struggled across the frozen surface toward the shore. John and Dean saw Sam rise once or twice and then no more. He was gone.

"God, no, please," John begged in a low voice. "Dean run to the ranger station up that path. It's just over there," he pointed frantically. "Tell them your brother fell through the ice. We need help."

"But, Dad, I gotta help…"

"Now, Dean, Go!"

**Forty-Five Minutes Later**

John had refused to stay back on the shore while rescue divers in cold water gear tried to find Sam. He had made Dean remain on the shore. The ranger station had already put Life Link medical helicopter on stand-by at the landing pad located at the Ranger's Station. There had been an alert sent to Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis for a pediatric cold water submersion trauma. The hospital had two emergency departments: one for all patients seventeen and older and then a pediatrics emergency department staffed with pediatric specialists. There was half of John's brain that told him the cold water would buy them time for saving Sammy that he could still be saved, and then the father half of his brain just knew his baby boy was under that ice in the dark and cold. There was a flurry of sudden activity and John heard a rescue worker call out. "They found him, get the chopper fired up, now! And, alert HCMC that we're on the way! ETA 15 minutes!"

And, that's when John saw a diver surface out of the dark, cold water with Sam in his arms. His face was a grey ashen bluish color, his lips were a dark hue of blue; so blue they looked almost purple. His limbs hung lifelessly as he was pulled up by other workers. John saw his baby son's face for just a second, just a glimpse, but it would haunt him the rest of his days. Sam's eyes were partially open, and his dark eyes usually so full of life were glassy and completely unseeing and devoid of life. His wet dark bangs splayed across his forehead a stark contrast against his skin.

"Sammy?" His voice choked off in his throat as rescue workers wasted no time in putting Sam on a back board dropping a breathing tube down his throat and began ventilating him. They did a feverish set of compressions before picking him up and running toward the ranger station and to the waiting helicopter. They had explained to John earlier while still looking for Sam that flying him to HCMC was his best chance as they are setup for cold water resuscitations and rewarming critically low core body temperatures.

"Sir, you'll have to drive yourself to Minneapolis there isn't room in the helicopter." One rescue worker replied as John watched them take his baby boy away. "It's a couple hours, maybe three." Dean stood wide-eyed on the shore trying to push through some of the workers to get a glimpse of his little brother. And, when he did see a glimpse, he knew he'd wish the rest of his life he'd never saw his Sammy looking like that. Dean felt his stomach drop and the bile rise in his throat. Sam looked dead, and with a sudden chill of realization it struck him Sam _was_ dead.

"Sammy, don't you leave me," Dean whispered as his brother quickly disappeared from view toward the waiting helicopter. "Please," he choked out. He felt the weight of a hand drop onto his shoulder and he looked up into his father's warm brown eyes.

"Come on Dean, we have to go, now! We have to drive to the hospital." Dean started to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. John squeezed his son's shoulder as he pulled him along. "Sammy's gonna make it Dean." He wouldn't allow his mind to think of any other outcome. _They'd warm him up and resuscitate his baby boy. There was time_, he thought to himself. _Cold water preserves brain function. He's going to be okay_ it was a mantra he'd repeat to himself hundred's of times during the silent three hour drive to Minneapolis and the hospital.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, what did you think? I had three story ideas eating at me, and decided to run with this one first. I hope you liked chapter one. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Cold Denial

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter may not be high on the family angst scale, but there has to be a lot of setup for up and coming chapters and subsequently the entire story. Of course, I could be wrong and you think the angst is acceptable. I hope you enjoy it. This story is 10 chapters long, so we 8 to go yet and since it's already written my updates will be on a regular basis. Thanks for all of the reviews!!!

**Side Note:** Sometimes I wonder if I should include a glossary of medical jargon, but for the most part you should understand. I will give you one word: _Bullet_ is simply an ER term for all current medical vital stats. It is usually asked of incoming paramedics when arriving with a patient to the ER. The doctor wants to know current vitals, injury info, patient info, if any, and any meds given in route to hospital, etc. In short, it's a brief, condensed medical report known as _the bullet_. And, _cannulation_ in simplest terms is inserting tubing like a chest tube into the arteries for use in bypass procedures. I'm over simplifying, but you get the idea. You'll read some other medical terminology during treatment scenes, but it shouldn't be too bad for you.

Also, the distance and/or mileage (drive time) between various cities used within this entire story may or may not be accurate … I've taken creative license in these minor details. Thanks!

**Chapter Two**

**Cold Denial**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_I've tasted fear, my share of pain …I've held you tight and pushed you away, now with all my might I beg you to stay. I'm sure I could face the bitter cold, but life without you, I don't know…" _Excerpt from _I Don't Know_ by Celine Dion

**HCMC Pediatric Emergency Department**

"Alright people listen up we've got an eleven year old boy headed down from the helipad on the roof. I want everyone in this room on full trauma alert for a severe hypothermic resuscitation. The chopper medic said CPR is in progress and they have started our IV access for us, so be prepared." Dr. Andrew Kiragu commanded.

The elevator doors from the roof helipad slid open and the gurney carrying Sam's lifeless body pushed forward with urgency. One medic ran alongside the rolling gurney ventilating Sam from an ambu bag attached to a tube inserted down his throat. Another medic continued one handed compressions as the gurney moved briskly through the hospital corridor to the Pediatric Resuscitation Trauma Room. Dr. Kiragu took command. "Okay, give me the bullet."

"Eleven year-old male submerged in Mile Lacs Lake for forty-five minutes before rescue divers found him. He fell through the ice. We have started two bore IV's, and he was intubated on site. CPR has been in progress since rescue. The ER via in air communication indicated no IV meds be given other than fluids," the doctor nodded. "We've started him on a 5 percent dextrose and normal saline drip wide open as ordered by the ER. Patient is unresponsive to all stimuli. Pupils are fixed and dilated. We've had no palpable pulse and heart monitor has indicated asystole without change. No known allergies or previous health problems were indicated by the parent. Patients name is Sam Winchester. His father and brother are en route by car from the lake." The doctor nodded and went to work.

"Okay, we need to transfer him," Dr. Kiragu stated. "On three," he looked at the medics and his staff as they prepared to transfer Sam from the helicopter gurney to a treatment gurney. "One, two," and they lifted in unison. Sam's head lulled ever so slightly, his eyes still partially open and unseeing. What small amount of clothing that remained was cut free, and they left him with nothing. They resumed compressions and ventilation.

"I need a core temp on this kid now," the doctor commanded. "And, start running his fluids through the fluid warmer. I want warm fluids going in."

"57.8," Sherry replied, as she called out Sam's core temperature in an urgent tone a few moments later.

"Okay, let's get this kid ready for high-flow cardiopulmonary bypass. Sherry?" The doctor turned to the lead trauma nurse. "I want him on warm, humidified oxygen while he's being bagged. And, remember people this kid isn't dead until he's warm and dead." The staff flew into action and they ran like a well oiled machine in an effort to save Sam's young life. "I need a cut down tray for femoral access. Dr. Clinton?" Andrew Kiragu spoke to his third year intern. "I want you to start an internal jugular venous line." He saw the hesitation cross over his interns face. "I've seen you do it more times than I can count. You'll be fine." The doctor kept on task, but always managed to help an intern. Joe Clinton nodded to his mentor.

"We need to get this kid warmed up. He's too cold to try cardioversion and cardiac drugs aren't going to do squat right now. We gotta warm him first. Continue CPR and bagging him. I want all of our I's dotted and T's crossed on this kid's case everyone," the room nodded. The doctor looked down into Sam's pale bluish purple face. He gently pulled back each partially open eyelid and shined a penlight into each eye, and as expected the pupils remained fixed and dilated to mere pin head points, and didn't respond to any light. He closed each eyelid completely when he finished. He reached for the cut down tray as it moved into view. And within minutes Sam had both femoral veins in his thighs accessed with venous cannulation and they were beginning to send his blood through the bypass warmer to warm and oxygenate his blood and return it back into him.

"He's officially on bypass," a technician called out. The doctor nodded. The staff stopped ventilating Sam and doing compressions as the bypass machine took over the duty of his lungs and heart while it warmed and recirculated oxygenated blood back into his body. They covered Sam partially with a hypothermic warmer blanket that glowed red while it was turned on indicating heat was active to help warm him externally.

"Poor thing," Sherry commented quietly to a fellow co-worker who was drawing a base line blood gas on Sam. "His skin is like ice." Her co-worker nodded solemnly.

"Joe," Dr. Kiragu began. "What are the parameter rates for rewarming with bypass?" He quizzed his young intern.

"Bypass averages a 3.6 degree increase every 3 to 5 minutes in core body temp."

"Good," the doctor nodded his approval. "And, what's the severe hypothermia resuscitation rule of thumb I said earlier?" He hedged to his young intern.

"Hypothermic patients aren't dead until they are warm and dead."

"You got it." He leaned forward and looked at the internal jugular line the intern had inserted. "Nice work." His intern smiled briefly and nodded. "Start the kid on another round of dextrose and saline. Infuse a 100 cc bag of lactated ringers." The activity around Sam continued. All monitors attached to Sam indicated that there was no life in his young body. Sam Winchester for all intents and purposes was clinically dead.

**Somewhere between Mile Lacs Lake and Minneapolis **

The car ride had been silent and tense. Dean stared out the passenger window as his father drove toward Minneapolis. Dean's mind never strayed from thoughts of his little brother. A shiver worked its way through him as he remembered Sam's face. His young face had been blue and purple. And, he remembered his little brother's lifeless eyes that stared into nothingness and remained unseeing. John saw Dean shiver out of the corner of his eye and turned up the heat. He didn't realize that the chill came from deep within his son. "Dean?" John's voice broke into the silence. He watched his oldest son turn and look at him, but remained silent. "You hanging in there kiddo?"

"Yeah Dad. How much longer?" John looked at his watch and let out a frustrated sigh.

"At least another hour son." Dean gave his father a quick nod and went back to looking out the window. John took a moment as he drove to reach over and give his child a reassuring hand on his young shoulder. Dean nodded his thanks and went back to staring at the darkening sky as the sun began to drop behind the trees as sunset quickly approached in the Minnesota December sky. John's eyes shifted from his son back to the road. His hands squeezed the steering wheel as he allowed his mind to wander what his baby boy was being subjected to this very moment at the hospital. He wanted desperately to be at his youngest child's side and to chase away every bad, painful thing, and the fact he was still at least an hour away from his child filled him with rage. His knuckles popped as his grip tightened on the wheel. He pushed the thoughts of what Sam was going through and focused on getting to Minneapolis.

**Pediatric Emergency Department, HCMC, Forty-five Minutes Later**

"Core temp?" Dr. Kiragu called out.

"88.6," a staff member called out.

"All right, let's take him off bypass," he commanded. A technician turned the bypass machine off as it finished its cycle.

"Off bypass."

"Alright begin compressions again, and continue with the warmed humidified oxygen while bagging. Push a high dose Epi bolus. Dr. Clinton?" The doctor looked up at his intern.

"Yes?"

"What is the suggested borderline core body temp for cardioversion?"

"Typically 89.6."

"Good." Dr. Kiragu shifted his gaze over to the IV technician continue rapid infusion of warmed fluids. I want the drip wide open." The tech nodded.

A handful of minutes passed. "Core temp?" the doctor asked as he surveyed Sam's cardiac monitor and saw the unwavering flat line of asystole.

"89.2."

"Last epi?"

"Eight minutes ago," a voice answered promptly.

"Alright push a high dose Epi and Lidocaine bolus." The doctor took over compressions on Sam's small eleven year-old chest. He completed five sets of CPR and stopped.

"PEA," the intern called out when he looked at the monitor. "Wait," he replied sharply as he watched the PEA degenerate into a weak ventricular fibrillation. "He's in VF."

"Okay, people," Dr. Kiragu replied. "Charge paddles to 160 jules. Clear!" Sam's young body jerked as the electrical shock entered his silent chest.

"No response," Dr. Clinton called out to his mentor.

"Come on kiddo," Dr. Kiragu replied. "Charge to 160 again. Clear!"

John Winchester burst into the emergency room with Dean at his side. He went up to the main desk. "My son was brought in by helicopter almost two hours ago," his eyes were panicked. "Sam Winchester." The desk clerk looked up the name.

"Sir, you need to go to the desk in the emergency center through those doors. He's in the Pediatric Emergency Room." John nodded and left quickly.

"May I help you?" The cheery desk clerk smiled, but tensed slightly at John's wild eyes.

"My son Sam Winchester was brought in by helicopter almost two hours ago. He fell through the ice." The clerk knew the case, as news of it had spread through the department quickly. Severe hypothermic cases when they happened were always large trauma cases that the department remembered.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester, we've been expecting you. The police at Mile Lacs Lake told us you were driving in from the accident scene. The trauma team is still working on your son, but if you'd like to wait in a private family waiting room we've set aside for your personal use," she smiled. "The doctor will be in to speak with you as soon as he is able."

"Is there any word at all? Is he alive? What's happening?" John's voice was demanding and pleading all at once.

"I'm sorry Mr. Winchester, but there are no updates at this time. I promise you that Dr. Kiragu is doing everything within his power. He's the Chief of Pediatric Emergency Medicine your son is in the best hands." The desk clerk had an aide show John and Dean to a small private waiting room just for them. John and Dean both sat down heavily.

"Dad?" Dean's voice sounded so young and broken. John looked at his eldest child with a parental surveying eye as he tried to gauge his son's state of mind.

"Yes?"

"Why'd they put us in this room? Why aren't we out there with other families waiting?"

"It's just a room Dean," John tried to assure. "Maybe, with bad accidents families are given these waiting areas rather than the big room out there. It's okay." Truth was John was worried about this room, as well. Were they going to come in here in a while and tell him that his baby boy couldn't be saved and that he and Dean had lost Sammy? His throat constricted at the thought. "It's okay," John said again as he saw the doubt in Dean's eyes. John reached over and patted Dean's right knee.

**Meanwhile, the Trauma Room**

"Core temp?"

"90.3" a nurse called out a short moment later.

"Still no response to cardioversion and CPR." Dr. Clinton remarked to his mentor. The doctor looked at the clock.

"Okay, we're not giving up on this kid yet, as far as I'm concerned I'm not prepared to call it until his core temp is normalized. Inject Amiodarone 25 mg, and push an amp of atropine. And, continue compressions."

"Monitor still showing a weak VF."

"Charge to 170 Jules. Clear!"

"No response."

"Let's go again at 170," Dr. Kiragu commanded. "Clear!"

"Ventricular tachycardia," his intern called out. "Shit," he hissed. "He's back in VF."

"175," Dr. Kiragu shouted. "Clear!"

Sam's body arched upward again as the shock entered his chest. "No response." His intern answered quickly as he looked at the heart monitor.

"Core temp?"

"90.6"

"Okay," he let out a frustrated sigh. "The active external warming isn't bringing his temp up fast enough following the bypass. His cardiac rhythm isn't converting." He started compressions once again as he thought out loud. "Alright," the doctor began. "Let's put him back on bypass to raise his core temp higher." The Cardiac Bypass Technician readied the machine once again.

"Ready for bypass."

"Okay, start it," the doctor ordered. The tech nodded.

"On bypass," the Bypass Technician called out as the machine started back up. It resumed its work of warming and oxygenating Sam's blood, as the machine once again became his heart and lungs. The doctor stood back and waited as he watched the clock. I don't want him on for more than ten minutes." The doctor knew the bypass was his young patient's best chance, but with all bypass usage it came with its own set of problems and complications.

"Ten minutes," his intern called out a short while later.

"Okay, let's cycle down and get him off bypass. I need a core temp."

"97.8," Dr. Clinton answered his mentor. "He's in a strong VF."

"Charge to 170 again. Clear!"

**Forty-minutes later, the Private Family Waiting Room**

There was a brief knock as the door to the private waiting room opened. John and Dean were immediately on their feet. John looked into the physician's eyes. His face looked young, but his salt and pepper hair betrayed his youthful face. John figured the man was in his mid to late fifties. "Mr. Winchester," he began in a gentle tone. "I'm Dr. Kiragu, your son's treating physician since his arrival here at HCMC.

"Yes," John nodded quickly. "My son, how's Sam?"

"Please, have a seat," he encouraged John and Dean both to sit as he himself took a seat across from the couch John and Dean sat on. "And, you are?" He looked at Dean not willing to disregard the youth.

"Dean," he answered in a voice that shook giving away his emotional state. "Sam's big brother." The doctor nodded and offered a small smile.

"Please, my son," John begged.

"We were able to get his heart beating again," he began. John's face spread into a huge smile.

"My boy's okay. He's alive."

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Call me John." The doctor nodded.

"John," his voice was tentative and it was that pause that made the bile crawl into the back of John's throat.

"What? You said his heart's beating … he has a pulse."

"Yes his heart is beating, but your son is in extremely critical condition. His core body temperature on arrival was 57.8 degrees which was only slightly above our lowest case on record here at the hospital of 57.6. We had to put Sam on cardiopulmonary bypass to warm and oxygenate his blood. Now, the lake water I'm told was near 0 degrees which is a good thing. The colder the better in order to hopefully preserve brain function. We had trouble getting his heart back, but he is maintaining a heartbeat and has a palpable pulse."

"I want to see him," John spoke up.

"Once he's settled in the PICU you'll be able to stay with him except during exams and tests. Right, now we want to be very careful with jostling him more than necessary. He is susceptible to cardiac arrhythmias right now and subsequent cardiac arrests and I'm trying to avoid that. He's young, and unfortunately it won't do him any good with this problem. Cardiac arrests in children are harder to come back from than arrests in adults, so we want to avoid a cardiac disturbance." John nodded and continued to listen to the doctor. Dean listened to every word.

"Right now we are keeping an eye on his potassium levels in his blood as they can become dangerously high after a hypothermic cardiac arrest and resuscitation. And, we're watching him for a condition called _rewarming shock_. Your son was without a pulse for some time. As cold as the water was I suspect his heart had stopped within five to eight minutes of exposure to the cold water. Now," the doctor took a breath and John tensed. He knew something bad was coming.

"The first stage of drowning we are looking at a condition of hypoxia which basically means there was a reduced oxygen supply to the brain and ideally a person would be receiving resuscitation efforts before five minutes. However, the cold water slowed your son's metabolism down which buys the brain some more time, especially in the young. Sam was in the water over forty-five minutes before he was found and by that time he had entered into a state of anoxia which means there had been a lengthy lack of oxygen to the brain. But, as I said because of the cold water immersion the brain was given some extra time. We have him on an EEG machine right now, and as expected right now he is showing no signs of brain activity," the doctor trailed off as he saw the look of devastation cross over John and Dean's face.

"Are you telling me my son is brain dead?" John felt hot tears begin to sting his eyes, but they refused to fall.

"No, not yet John. Sam's brain and entire body for that matter have been in a form of suspended animation for almost two hours. Sam was clinically dead for an hour and thirty-two minutes before we got a spontaneous heartbeat back. His brain and body need a chance to regroup. If Sam were a computer, his main board of circuits has cycled down right now and are offline, so to speak … make sense?"

"You're saying he's going to come back."

"I'm not going to give false hope John. There is a chance that Sam may never wake up, but we can't determine that until we've given him some time. If there are no signs of brain activity within forty-eight hours following resuscitation he'll likely be declared brain dead after a series of neurological tests to reconfirm. Although, I have seen some cases take almost seventy-two hours, however, forty-eight seems to be the litmus test for brain activity. His pupils are fixed and dilated right now and aren't reacting to the light, but it to can change as his body regroups. He's obviously not breathing on his own and we have put him on a ventilator with mildly humidified and heated oxygen. It isn't uncommon for the body temp to drop a little or for a patient to develop a fever after resuscitation following a hypothermic state, and we're keeping an eye on that.

"So, he's in a coma," Dean asked suddenly as he added himself to the conversation after finding his voice. Both men looked at him.

"In a sense 'yes'," the doctor responded. "He is unresponsive to all stimuli including deep pain. This state of unconsciousness is profound."

"But, he can wake up. You said we'd know in forty-eight hours," John replied quickly.

"We should see some sign of brain activity and pupil response, but even if that returns there's a …"

"A what?" John barked. "A chance my son may never open his eyes again?"

"I'm sorry," the doctor replied earnestly. "Yes, it's a possibility and if he does get a minimal brain activity response we can run tests to see if he has higher brain functions, and if they aren't present … you may have to decide…"

"Decide what?" John hissed. "I'm not killing my son." Dean tensed beside John and he reached out a put a comforting hand on his child's arm.

"It wouldn't be killing him John. You'd be letting him go. But, we're not at that bridge yet, so let's see how things go. There isn't a quick fix to this. We have other things to factor in and worry about."

"Like?"

"Right now Sam's kidneys aren't producing any urine, and that has me concerned. I've started him on an IV course of med's to help his kidneys rebound, but if they don't we're looking at having to start him on dialysis, but I'm hoping he'll start producing urine within the next three to four hours. Right now, his entire organ system is out of sync and needs a lot of support with medicine and machines. We are doing everything within our power."

"Brain damage," John began and stopped. "You said the cold water helps to preserve brain function."

"Yes, it does, but only to a certain extent. I have seen children bounce back completely, and others have been profoundly affected. We won't know Sam's true state until he regains consciousness, but in the interim when he is more stable I can order an MRI and PET scan of his brain to look at possible damage. Right now, we're concentrated on supporting him medically until he stabilizes." John gave a tight nod.

**Two Hours Later, PICU**

John was the first to walk into Sam's private PICU cubicle. The room was medium sized and there were a lot of machines and IV poles surrounding his son. They had prepared him with what to expect and he had truly thought he was prepared, but that notion couldn't be farther from the truth. His reaction at the sight of his baby boy was a violent intake of air. Dean stepped next to his father when he heard his father gasp quietly and looking at his little brother he knew why. Sam was deathly pale beneath tubes, wires and machines. He was dressed in a pale blue hospital gown adorned with smiling teddy bears riding tricycles. Those smiling bears made the moment almost surreal to Dean, almost.

Sam was no longer the hideous bluish purple he had been when pulled from the lake, now his skin appeared bloodless and gray. His lips weren't their usual pink, but appeared to be almost translucent they were so pale. Sam's chest rose and fell with the click and whoosh of the ventilator. Dean studied the tube rising out of his brother's mouth held in place by a blue plastic mouth piece. "Sammy?" he whispered as he stepped forward. Dean's voice drew John out of his paralyzed stupor. He was amazed at how quickly his first born slipped right into big brother mode and adjusted to the horrific scene in front of him. The heart monitor beeped reassuring John that his little boy had life inside his body, but his mind, his beautiful, brilliant young mind, he only hoped the son he knew and loved with all his heart was still inside and simply sleeping as his body mended.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke again as he reached a tentative hand out to touch his brother. His fingers ghosted above Sam's limp hand that lied next to his blanket covered body. Dean reached out and touched his fingers and pulled away quickly with scared eyes. A nurse walking in to check Sam's vitals had witnessed the reaction.

"Sweetie, it's okay," she encouraged. "Your little brother's fingers and toes may be cold for a bit longer. His extremities will take longer to warm up. It's okay to touch him just watch for the IV needles and tubing." Dean nodded.

"Thanks," he replied quietly as his eyes settled back on his little brother and he gently stroked Sam's forearm.

"Sure thing, I'm Brenda," she smiled. "I'm Sam's primary care nurse." Dean nodded. She turned her eyes toward John. "Mr. Winchester if you have any questions or need anything, please let me know, okay?"

"Call me John, and thanks. It was Brenda, right?"

"Yes. I'll be out of here shortly. I just needed to make some notes and adjust some drips. You should expect a lot of activity in here, but you can stay unless he's being examined or having some kind of procedure." John nodded.

**Two Hours Later, PICU**

The emotional onslaught of the day had finally caught up with Dean as he had finally succumbed to sleep. John had requested a sleeping chair for Dean to rest in. John looked over at Dean who slept in the corner curled on his side. John shifted his eyes back to Sam and went back to stroking his son's unruly bangs. "Listen Sammy," he spoke softly as he leaned close to his little boy's ear. "I know you're mad at your old Dad for making you stay out of the hunt earlier, but this is no way to go about getting me to reconsider the next hunt," he smiled softly. He watched Sam for any sign of life that wasn't artificial. There wasn't any. "And, anyway you don't want to miss Christmas at Uncle Jim's do you?" John had been taking his boy's to Jim's house for so many years it did seem he was their Uncle, and as far as John was concerned his trusted friend was family.

"Sammy, please kiddo, don't do this, okay?" John's voice caught in his throat. "You come back to us," he urged as he continued to stroke his son's chestnut hair. John leaned back in his chair for a moment to stretch his back out when he looked at Sam's catheter bag. He bent over quickly and leaned in close. He rose quietly, but quickly and caught the eye of Brenda, Sam's nurse and motioned for her to come to the room. She cast a glance at Dean's sleeping form as she entered and kept her voice low.

"Is there a problem John?" She whispered.

"No," John answered with a smile. "Look." He pointed to Sam's catheter bag which clearly had urine in it and for John that meant his little boy's kidneys were beginning to work. Brenda went over and lifted the bag from its hanger.

"80 cc's," she replied. "Well, it's a start. I'll page Dr. Kiragu, he's still Sam's primary physician despite this not being his regular unit. He wanted paged for any changes." John nodded.

"Brenda?"

"Yes?"

"It's a good sign, right?" She smiled softly.

"Yes, it's definitely a small step forward for him clinically. And, all steps forward no matter how big or small are a good thing." She returned the bag to the hanger. She started to make a note on Sam's chart.

"What are you writing?" John asked in his parental tone.

"Oh, just making a note that he's produced 80cc's of urine since his bag was last checked an hour and a half ago. I'll go page Dr. Kiragu now."

"Thanks." She smiled and left. John sat back down and gently stroked Sam's forehead with a broad thumb. "That's my boy," John cooed. "Sammy?" His voice soft and gentle. "I'm here kiddo. Dad's here and Dean's here. We're waiting for you sport." John leaned forward and smelled his little boy's hair. Despite the antiseptic and medical smell that seemed to permeate his son's hair he could still smell his baby boy. Sam's scent had since birth always reminded him of vanilla when he smelled his hair and even now he closed his eyes as the scent of vanilla filled his senses and he smiled. "Love you Sammy," he whispered. "I don't say it enough, but I do," his words were private, a moment between a father and his youngest child.

**Four Hours Later, PICU**

John stood outside his child's room that currently housed both his son's. One was in a coma and the other sleeping from emotional and physical exhaustion. "So, his kidneys are coming back?" John hedged rooting around for a straight answer.

"Well," Dr. Kiragu began. "Sam has produced over 140 cc in the last four hours, so things are looking up. His neurological status remains unchanged, and his cardiac status is showing improvements. He isn't having as many episodes of irregularity or short run PVC's which are all good signs for his heart."

"But, you said his neurological status is unchanged?"

"John, your son's resuscitation from the hypothermia and long term cardiac arrest was only a few hours ago. I'm not expecting any changes yet."

"I know about the forty-eight hour rebound, but ideally when would you hope to see some activity?" The doctor knew he was dealing with a parent first and fore most, but he recognized that John was also an intelligent man that deserved straight answers if he was prepared to hear them.

"John," he took a breath. "Alright, I'm going to give it to you without sugar. Are you sure you're ready to hear it?" John felt his throat constrict as he nodded. "Fine," the doctor began. "Ideally, I'd like to see some sort of pupil response come back within the next eight to ten hours. The best case scenario in another four to six, and subsequently I'd like to start seeing what we call Delta waves even if transient at first on his EEG for brain activity. Right now Sam's base line is flat, it shows no higher brain function or activity, but that could very well change soon. I'm hoping it will since it appears his kidneys are showing real signs of rebounding and his heart, as well.

"But, even if he has the improvements you're talking about that doesn't mean he's going to wake up, right?"

"The coma is deep, very deep, but that can change over hours and days."

"That's not answering my question." The doctor offered a tight smile. John was right.

"Yes, there is a chance that even if Sam shows signs of neurological improvements on the basic level it is not an indicator that he's going to open his eyes. The coma could be irreversible."

"Do you think he'll wake up?"

"Every resuscitation is different John. Two years ago, we revived a child a year older than Sam and with a core temp slightly higher and he woke up after a month in a coma and is a healthy child today. But, there is always the other side of the coin. A year ago we had a child who fell into a local pond and was under for only twenty minutes before being pulled out, but her brain function didn't return and the family terminated life support. It's a toss up. I hate to make Sam's recovery sound like a crap shoot, but he's a critically ill little boy right now, and there are no guarantees. But, I assure everything that can be done is being done."

"Thank you," John's voice was tight, but he felt the genuine quality to the doctor's approach. "I'm going to go back to my son's now."

"Sure, if you need anything, please have me paged," the doctor replied. "And, John," he said as John started to go back into Sam's room.

"Yes?"

"Try to get some sleep," the doctor encouraged. "Your boys need their Dad at a 100 percent." John offered a slight smile and nodded.

Dean was pulled from his sleep by the click and whoosh of Sam's ventilator. He looked over at their father and noticed that John had fallen asleep leaning against Sam's bed with a hand resting on Sammy's arm. He got up quietly. "Dad?" he was careful to keep his voice soft.

"Hmm?" John replied before his brain reminded him where he was. His head shot up and he scanned Sam's silent features quickly and his eyes traveled to all of the monitors scanning for a problem. "Is it Sammy?"

"No, Dad," Dean offered quietly. "Why don't you lie down on that sleeping chair? I can sit with Sammy. I want to anyway." John rubbed a hand across his tired eyes.

"No, I'm good, but here," he stood up and offered Dean the chair. "I need to call Jim and tell him what happened. It's late, but I should call. You stay with Sammy, and if there is any change I'm just outside the PICU at the phones, okay?"

"Sure Dad," Dean replied. John smiled and reached out and cupped the back of Dean's neck. He was so proud of the way his first born was handling everything.

"You doin' okay kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad," Dean's eyes dropped from his father's. "I'll be better when Sammy wakes up."

"Me too," John replied. "I think I'll get us some grub from the cafeteria after I talk to Jim and bring it back, okay? I want you to eat something." Dean nodded. John was glad he didn't have to command his son to eat and take care of himself. Dean always put Sammy first, and neglected his own health, and John was going to make sure that didn't happen.

**Blue Earth, Minnesota, Pastor Jim Murphy's House, 11:30 PM**

Jim Murphy was pulled from his sleep by the incessant ringing of the phone beside his bed. He reached over groggily as he looked at the green lit digital clock. "Hello?" he cleared his throat trying to shake the effects of sleep from it.

"Jim?" at the sound of John Winchester's voice on the phone at this hour woke Jim Murphy up completely.

"John, is that you?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"I've been wondering when you and the boys would be showing up. You still on that Water Wraith hunt at Mile Lacs?"

"No," John's voice cracked and Jim knew instantly that something had happened to one or god forbid both boys.

"John what happened? The boys?" Jim clutched the phone tightly. "John?"

"Sammy," John's voice hitched and cracked as he tried to reign in his emotions that had been just under the surface ever since Sam disappeared beneath the ice. Jim closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer up before he asked his next question.

"How bad John?"

John relayed to Jim everything that had happened and that Sam was in the PICU clinging to life in critical condition. "They say the coma could be irreversible Jim, and that there are no guarantees."

"Hell's bell's John. This is Sammy we're talking about," Jim chided. "He'll wake up. He has to," he affirmed. "It's as simple as that. What hospital are you at? I'm coming to you."

"You don't have to," John admonished. Although, privately he wanted nothing more than to have his long time friends comforting presence nearby for himself and his family. And, some part of himself he wasn't willing to acknowledge wanted the religious man here should Sam slip away from them forever.

"John you and those boys are family. I'm coming."

"We're at Hennepin County Medical Center."

"Minneapolis, right?"

"Yeah."

"It'll probably take me a good three and half maybe four hours to get to you, but I'll head out as soon as I call a friend to stop by and take care of Duncan." John smiled slightly at the sound of the old Golden Retriever that Sammy loved to play with so much when they visited Jim.

"Thanks Jim."

"What else is family for John? I'll see you soon." Jim hung up the phone and allowed the positive attitude he kept up for John's sake evaporate from him as tears welled up thinking back on all the details John had relayed to him about Sammy's condition. He felt his throat tighten at the thought the little boy had been clinically dead for almost two hours before they were able to get his tiny young heart beating again. There were so many what if's and possibilities that he himself felt overwhelmed at the mere scope of them. He had no idea how John was even keeping sane. "Oh, Sammy," he whispered. Duncan trotted into the bedroom and nuzzled Jim's hand. The older man smiled and patted the dog's head. "Hey, boy," he spoke softly as he stood up to pack for the trip and call a friend to care for Duncan.

**Three Weeks Later, PICU Family Conference Room, 6:00 PM**

"The coma is lighter, but what does that mean?" John ran a hand through his thick dark hair. "What about his brain activity? I've watched the monitor and I know he's having activity…" John wanted to continue, but the doctor stopped him.

"John, I know this has to be frustrating, and that you want him to open his eyes. Sam is showing movements, or what we call purposeful movements. He has also been triggering the vent, so we've begun to wean him off over the past few days, and I expect we'll be able to remove the breathing tube in another day or two. And, yes, there have been signs of delta wave brain activity, but John," Dr. Kiragu started and stopped. The MRI and PET scan they had completed on Sam the day before had finally been evaluated by the Chief of Neurology and the results would not be what John wanted to hear, no parent would, and Dr. Kiragu hated this part of his job.

"But what?" John asked when the doctor paused.

"I want to show you Sam's brain scans from yesterday. They have been evaluated by the Chief of Neurology and he relayed his finding to me." Dr. Kiragu stood up from the private conference room table and pulled out the scans and put them on a light display to show John. John stood and walked over to the scans.

"This is his MRI and Dr. Hawthorn has noted these areas as the ones most heavily affected by the anoxia Sam suffered. But, his PET scan is conclusive with its results."

"Wait," John stopped the man. "The MRI, these dark areas you say are the ones affected by the lack of oxygen, right?"

"Yes."

"But, what does that mean? These dark areas?"

"It's areas of damage John. This area here," the doctor pointed with his finger is his speech center, and this part of the brain allows him complex cognitive thinking and problem solving. And, this area deals with motor functions. Perhaps, if I show you the PET scan this will all begin to make more sense." He pointed to the red areas on the PET scan. "These are active areas and have a good blood flow, but the dark areas with only little to no red are the damaged areas I showed you on the MRI scans. John, these areas won't come back. This is essentially dead tissue, and unfortunately brain cells that are lost due to oxygen deprivation or other trauma do not reproduce or mend themselves. Once a brain cell dies it is lost forever."

"What are you saying?" John forced the question past the tense muscles of his throat. He was so glad that he had told Dean to stay with Sam and Jim rather than come to this meeting.

"We've been monitoring Sam's brain activity and he does show delta waves, and that is good, at least there is hope that some form of rehab will help your son to learn to speak and walk again, and perhaps even learn self care, eventually. But, there are clear issues that I'm afraid will never resolve themselves. John, I'm so sorry, but the results are conclusive and have been reviewed by not only the Chief of Neurology, but a panel here at the hospital, and…"

"Don't you fucking say it," John hissed. "My boy isn't … Sammy isn't…" John Winchester finally lost the battle with his emotions that he had kept under a tight lock for three weeks, and tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. "He's a smart boy," he choked. "Sammy was always bright. He is bright," John corrected himself. "He'll be okay," he looked at the doctor with pleading eyes. "Right? There is hope." It was a plea more so than a question.

"John, I wish nothing more than the ability to undo all of this and not have to say what I need to say to you, but," he began with a solemn face. "Sam has suffered irreparable brain damage from the near drowning. Now, a scan can tell you that there is damage, but the brain is a complex thing and we'll know more once Sam comes out of the coma completely, but John the son that existed before that day at the lake is gone forever, however, that doesn't mean you've lost your boy. He's young and his brain is still capable of making new connections. I don't mean to imply the damage will repair, it won't, but I've seen cases where the brain rewired itself in a young trauma victim over months and years and they were able to access functions that they had previously been denied because of damage. It's the same principle about young epileptics who have half their brain removed to stop constant seizures. They can lead a perfectly normal life with half a brain, of course they go through extensive therapy, but they relearn things."

"His damage," John began brokenly. "How bad … I mean … his IQ … what are we looking at?" John couldn't seem to form his thoughts.

"John, it's hard to say until he is awake and can actually be tested. But, it's going to be rough for a while. He'll probably require round the clock care for some time, perhaps forever depending on whether or not he is an acceptable candidate for rehab. But, I suspect he'll be able to attend rehab at a twenty-four hour care facility. It's going to be a long road John."

**Twenty-Minutes Later, PICU, Sam's Room**

John walked back into his little boy's room and tried to put on his best face for Dean's sake. "Dad?" Dean asked as he stood when his father walked in. "What did the doc say?"

"You know doctors Dean. A lot of technical talk. How's Sammy?" He looked at his young son lying motionless in the same bed he'd been in for three weeks.

"He moved his hand," Dean answered excitedly. John looked at Jim for confirmation.

"It's true John. His right hand moved and he lifted two fingers." John stepped forward with a soft, painful smile on his face. He stood over his baby son and brushed back his bangs gently.

"Hey Sammy," he whispered. "That's a good boy."

"So," Jim began. "What did the doctor say? Any good news?" Jim knew John was covering something, but he hoped there might be some sliver of good news.

"Dr. Kiragu said they think Sammy will be able to have the breathing tube removed in a day or two."

"Really?" Dean smiled. "Here that Sammy," he patted his brother's leg. "You're going to get that friggin' tube pulled soon."

"Dean, would you stay with Sammy? I think I'm going to stretch my legs." John looked at his eldest son. "I know you're probably going stir crazy, but…"

"No, Dad. I'm right where I want to be, and anyway Pastor Jim…" Jim cleared his throat reminding Dean that in the PICU he had to be family. Dean smiled. "I mean Uncle Jim," he corrected. "I went and got him a coffee while you were gone and he stayed with Sammy."

"Oh," John cast a look at Jim. "Jim you could probably stand to stretch your legs, too." Jim nodded knowing full well his old friend wanted to talk out of Dean's ear shot.

"Sure Johnny," he answered quickly.

**Thirty-Minutes Later, a Quiet Corner in the Hospital Chapel**

Jim had scoped the place out earlier and noted that it didn't seem occupied very often and he thought this was a better place for John to talk to him than the cafeteria. And, he couldn't have been more right. His mind was still reeling over the definitive prognosis for Sam. His heart ached for what the Winchester family had lost and he ached for Sam's lost potential, but felt some comfort in the fact that Sam could hopefully have some kind of future, a different future, but a future nonetheless. Jim cast a concerned sideways glance at his old friend who had been silent since finishing his talk about his little boy. "John?" He prompted gently.

"How do I tell Dean?" John finally spoke. "I don't know if I can." Jim reached over and dropped a comforting hand on John's forearm.

"Dean can handle this John. It won't be easy, but he'll cope, and so will you. Sam's alive John and that's what counts. You have to take hope in the fact the doctor thinks Sammy will have some kind of future with rehab. There's hope."

"Hope? My little boy is brain damaged," John's tone was angry. "Future? What future? The doctor doesn't even know how bad Sammy is yet … he said we have to wait until he comes out of the coma fully to have him assessed. Dammit Jim," John hissed. "They won't even know if he'll be a candidate for rehab until he wakes up. I told you the doctor said Sammy will need round the clock care for a long time … what if he can't take care of himself … wash himself, go to the bathroom on his own …" John's voice tapered off and John could see the anguish. "I should have never taken him on that hunt. I could have stopped by your place and dropped him off, but I …"

"Stop right there Johnny," Jim chastised his friend gently. "This wasn't your fault. You've taken those boys on plenty of hunts with you whether they've played an active role or not … it just happened, okay?"

"He's eleven years old Jim, eleven," John's eyes were blood shot and agonized. "He's still just a baby … my baby."

"It isn't fair John, but we're going to have to work with what we've got right now. Look, there is a bright side, the doctor did say they're going to take him off of the ventilator in a day or two, and Sam is beginning to come out of the coma, something is better than nothing. It's going to be baby steps for a while, but you'll get through this and your boys, too, one way or the other you will." John nodded at his friend.

"Yeah," his reply was gruff. "I should go talk to Dean." He stood up. "Jim, do you think you could sit with Sammy while I take Dean for a walk?"

"Of course." John offered his friend a genuine smile.

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"You've put your life on hold and your commitments to the rectory and I just wanted you to know …" Jim put his hand up.

"Don't Johnny. You and the boys are family. And, the church has a substitute and Duncan is being cared for by a friend."

"Thanks anyway," John replied quietly. "You think you could take Dean with you back to our hotel room tonight? He really needs a good nights sleep."

"We're going to play hell getting him to leave Sammy."

"I know, but we've got those two rooms for showering and naps, and the boy needs sleep and a real meal. I just need to know he's taken care of Jim while I spend some one on one time with Sammy. I just need…"

"I know John." Jim comforted. "After you talk to Dean I'll take him back to the hotel." John nodded a thank you. Both men headed toward Sam's unit.

John walked toward the PICU with a heavy heart. He had to tell Dean the horrible truth about their Sammy, and he just hoped that he'd be able to find all the pieces of his first born son's heart when it shattered.

**To Be Continued**

Well, I know that was a sort of long chapter, but I had a lot to cover. I hope you're still enjoying it after two chapters. And, it may have been a little on the lean side for the major angst junkies, but I did what I had to for the chapter. Some chapters up and coming will be heavier in story and lighter in angst, but I've tried to keep a balance while telling the story I had planned. If you'd like to take a minute to let me know what you thought, I appreciate it, but if you don't that's fine too … I just hope you're enjoying the story. **Thanks!**


	3. Letting Go of What Might Have Been

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for all of the kind review! They are all appreciated. I added a small extra addendum to the synopsis of this story to indicate that this story will be an AU fic because Sam, Dean and John's lives are all redirected after Sammy's accident. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter Three **

**Letting Go of What Might Have Been**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_We can't go back again … and there's no way to know what might have been…" _Excerpt from _What Might Have Been_ by Little Texas

Dean and John sat in a quiet and secluded area of the main glass arboretum off of the hospital's main lobby. Dean stared out the glass window to the dark and sleeping flower garden buried under December snow. His eyes glassy with new tears ready to follow the tracks of their previous predecessors. "So," he choked out quietly as his mind felt in direct conflict with his heart. He had heard everything his father had told him about his little brother and the brain damage. He understood it logically, but his heart was another matter. He took a breath and began again, "So, you mean Sammy's re…retarded now or something?" John frowned.

"I don't want to hear that word out of your mouth ever again," he warned a little more gruffly than he had intended. He knew Dean was hurt and confused. "Your brother isn't retarded." Dean looked at his father with something akin to complete devastation in his green-hazel eyes.

"Then what do you call it?" he blurted. "You said yourself he might never be able to take care of himself … that he's going to need around the clock care … like … like some kind of baby, Dad. That's what I'm hearing," Dean's voice peaked slightly as his emotions began to grasp him like the strong undertow of an approaching tsunami. "He won't be the same," he choked. "Will he even know me? Know I'm his big brother?" Dean dropped his face into his hands and began to cry quietly.

And, there it was in all its stark white truth for John Winchester to see … Dean was terrified he'd lost his little brother and that Sammy wouldn't remember him or know who he was … Dean was afraid he'd lost Sam in the figurative sense. "Dean, son," John began. He put an arm around the young fifteen year-old frame of his child. "Sammy's gonna need help for a while. Learn things over … walking and talking, but you were there for all of that the first time and you'll be there for him now," he assured. "And, Dean if Sammy doesn't know you or me when he wakes up then he'll learn to know us all over, but know this Dean," John cupped his son's face in a single broad hand. "No matter what has happened to Sammy's brain, his heart … his soul remembers you're his big brother. The bond will always be there Dean, even if maybe, we have to build a bridge back to it if its' been damaged. We still have your brother and that's what counts," John was trying to assure his son as much as he was himself.

"You really think Sammy will know me even if his brain doesn't?"

"I do."

"But, he could remember though right? The doctors really don't know how he'll be until he wakes up?"

"True," John relented. "Like I explained to you Dean they know Sammy's brain was hurt in different places, but the true level of damage we won't know until he wakes up from the coma." Dean nodded. John saw the distant look in his son's eyes. "Hey, listen to me," John asserted. "I don't want you giving up on your brother or doubting yourself, okay?"

"I'd never give up on Sammy," he choked. "I should have known he'd go out on the ice or something. Why the hell did he?" Dean lamented suddenly. "I knew he was bored because we wouldn't let him help us, I…"

"Dean stop," John gently commanded. "None of this is your fault, not one damn lousy bit of it … you understand?" Dean only looked at his father and John saw the self doubt there. "I mean it," John replied. "If there is any blame to be had in this damn mess it's me. I should have never had you boys out there, neither of you. You two," he stopped to rub and hand across his eyes. "You boys are all I've got and the danger I put you two in…"

"Dad," Dean began.

"Don't son," John started. "Don't give me absolution in this. I should have given you boys a home and real childhoods … not a life of demon hunting and motels rooms in place of a real home."

"Dad, we're a family … you, me and Sammy. That's home. Who needs a stinkin' house on a street? You and Sammy are my home." John felt his chest swell with a pride and love for his son he didn't think could exceed what he already had for his first born.

"Dean, you make me so proud," he replied. "But, you boys deserve better. Hunting isn't a life for you boys, and dammit," he hissed. "The price for my learning curve was Sammy. I'm so sorry Dean."

"Dad, please. We're going to be okay. Whatever Sammy needs we'll do. You said it yourself earlier the doctors might not know everything, and if Sammy needs a lot of help he'll get it. And, he's still Sammy no matter what." John wiped at the silent tears that had slipped down his face. He pulled Dean against him and leaned in hugging his child.

"You shouldn't be comforting me Dean," he stammered. "I should be comforting you."

"We'll lean on each other Dad, okay?" John smiled softly at his son.

"When did you become so wise? I don't remember giving you permission to grow up young man." Dean offered his father a tentative smile.

"Snuck under the wire sir, sorry," he replied softly.

"Yeah, I guess you did." Father and son sat quietly for a while as both continued to process their thoughts. John wasn't fooled for one minute he knew there would still be some sort of fallout with Dean. He knew his son had an incredible way of masking himself from the world and others. He knew Dean was broken over his little brother, but for now John would allow his eldest child his well practiced and controlled method of self preservation. He cleared his throat as he looked at his watch. "It's 8:00 kiddo, I guess we better get back up to Sammy and Jim," John began. "Dean, I want you to go back to the hotel with Jim tonight."

"No," Dean answered quickly. "I want to stay with Sammy. I showered there earlier and I can sleep in the foldout chair.

"Yes, I know all of this Dean, but I want you to go with Jim. I want you to have a decent meal tonight and sleep in a real bed. I'll stay with Sammy." John could see his son was about to protest once again. "Dean," he voice dropped into command mode. "This isn't a request. You go with Jim and I'll see you in the morning after you've had a shower and a good breakfast … am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Dean answered under his breath.

John walked Jim and Dean out to the lobby and saw them off for the night. John was thankful for Jim's presence. He trusted his children's lives with the man, so he had no reservations giving Dean's care over to the man for the night. Jim Murphy had been apart of his son's lives since Dean was five and Sammy turned one. Sam had taken his first steps at Jim's house. John turned back to return to his baby boy's bedside.

**One Month Later, Knapp Rehab Center, Pediatric Brain Injury Unit, Minneapolis **

Jim had driven back to Blue Earth with the intent to call up an old friend to arrange for Sam's transport back to Blue Earth and to receive rehab and care. He had finally got through to John that they couldn't keep living like Nomad's while Sam was in rehab. He had already arranged for Dean to start back to school before he got too far behind. Dean would be entering as a freshman at Blue Earth Area High School.

John walked into the resident rehab center having just finished relocation plans for Sam back to Blue Earth. The boy couldn't make the trip by ground ambulance, so Jim had made plans with a pilot friend that did medical transports and Sam would be entering a brain injury program at Blue Earth Medical Center under the care of Dr. Kirk Odden. John went toward Sam's room where he figured it was the time of day that Sammy would be getting some in room play therapy and he knew Dean would be right there with his little brother helping the therapist with Sam.

John arrived at Sam's room and watched quietly from the door. Dean was sitting on a blue mat with his back to the door facing the therapist. Dean had Sam propped up against his chest and held him upright. He held Sam's arms out as the therapist rolled a bright red ball toward him. "See Sammy," Dean encouraged. "Catch the ball and roll it back to Katie." Dean held his little brother's arms gently giving them guidance. Sam's head lulled a little to the side and Dean gently put an arm down to help readjust his brother's head. "Oops," Dean replied softly. "Sammy, try to hold your head up," he encouraged as he looked to Katie, Sam's physical therapist as she nodded in approval.

"That's right Dean just encourage him to try."

John stood watching and his heart ached. When Sam had finally come out of the coma in his fourth week at the hospital he had been non-verbal and limp. The motor movements he did have seemed jerky almost spastic, but the movements had begun to improve with therapy over the past month. He tended to keep his left arm close to his body and to invert his hand at the wrist near his chest, but the therapy sessions were helping and encouraging him to use that arm. Sam was still learning to sit on his own and not fall over, until a week ago when he finally was able to keep himself upright if left unsupported, but it was still hit and miss. The center had told John that they did feel Sam would eventually be able to walk, but when they weren't sure. John watched the red ball roll toward Sam and Dean again, and Dean held his brother's arms once again and pushed the ball back to Katie. "Yeah, Sammy, good push kiddo," Dean congratulated once more. Sam let out a little squeal of happiness and he smiled.

John felt his chest tighten and he stepped out of the doorway and leaned against the outside wall. He closed his eyes for a moment letting the emotional moment recede. His baby boy hadn't spoken yet, but he had started making noises over the past couple weeks: grunts or squeals depending on his mood. The center had said it was a positive move for Sam's rehab that his responses although non-verbal were appropriate for the moment. Sam grunted when he wasn't happy or frustrated about something, he squealed when happy or content and he had even cried. Sam had a long road ahead of him and some days John looked at him while he slept and saw the little boy before the accident, but then Sam would wake up and reality was always a faithful, cold companion.

"Good boy Sammy," Dean chimed. And, John heard a gurgle and squeal from his youngest. Sam had seemed to remember his family on some basic level and had taken to Dean almost immediately and to his father a few days later. John stepped back into the room.

"Hey there," John spoke as he entered. Dean swiveled around slightly to get a look at his dad. "What are you two up to, huh?"

"Oh, Sammy here is a regular athlete with the ball," Dean answered. "He actually gave a little push on the last roll."

"You did," John walked over and crouched down to his son's level. "Hey kiddo," John spoke softly. He ran his hand gently across Sam's forehead and pushed his bangs back. "We should cut these Sammy." Sam looked at his father with curious eyes. A small bit of saliva escaped from the side of his mouth and John gently took the edge of his flannel shirt and dried it away. "You know cut Sammy?" John smiled. He raised his fingers toward Sam's hair mimicking scissors, and while making a clipping motion, "snip, snip," he said playfully. Sam wrinkled his brow and grunted. John smiled and laughed. "Some things never change, huh, kiddo?"

"Dean?" Katie's voice broke into the family moment. "Why don't you see if we can get him to sit up on his own," she suggested. Dean nodded. John bent down and helped to hold Sam while Dean extricated himself from his brother. Dean coaxed his brother up into a more upright position, and tried to make him support his head.

"Here Sammy," Dean said softly. "Try sitting up for me and Dad, okay?" He let go of Sam and watched his head bobble a bit and his body seemed to follow suit with wobbling, but he stayed up. His legs were stretched out in front of him in the shape of the letter V. "That's it Sammy. Good job."

"That's my boy," John replied gently with a warm smile. Sam smiled and John reached out with his sleeve once again to catch a small stream of saliva as it escaped his little boy's mouth. John finished wiping it away and then stroked his son's throat as he'd been taught to help stimulate his swallowing muscles. Sam swallowed. "Good boy," John smiled and cooed. Sam squealed in response to his father's smile. He began to wobble more and started to tip like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but John put out a steadying hand and kept his little boy upright.

"Sammy, try to catch the ball when Katie rolls it to you," Dean spoke up. The red ball rolled toward Sam and stopped when it tapped the inside of his thighs. "Come on, you can do it Sammy," Dean encouraged. John watched his oldest child try so hard to help his little brother regain what he'd lost, although they had accepted that Sam would never be the same boy he was before that day at the lake. The doctors had done their testing and said that Sam was sitting at a cognitive level of a four or five year old, but a four or five year old with multiple disabilities. The therapists at the center had told him that as Sam progresses in rehab and his special schooling when he's able to attend his cognitive levels may raise, but will never be normal, or at least what society would deem normal. It was a cold hard fact that even if Sam learned self care and the basics of life again he would never be on his own in the literal sense. Sam would always need some form of help or guardianship.

John privately worried about that. He knew he wouldn't live forever which meant that eventually Dean would be the sole caregiver and guardian for Sammy. He knew it was a job his eldest child would do without question, but he hated that one day his boys would only have each other, and _God Forbid_, John though to himself, _what if something happened to Dean after he was already gone … where would that leave Sammy?_ He felt he had to provide multiple arrangements just to insure that Sam would always have someone. He never wanted his baby boy to end up in an institution if it could be prevented.

"Go on," Dean's voice was up beat and encouraging. Sam offered a slobbery grin, and suddenly jerked a hand toward the red ball tapping it. It didn't go far as it stopped near an ankle, but he'd tried, and it was the first time he'd tried on his own. "Dad!" Dean chirped. "Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did," John took Sam's face gently in his hands as he smiled broadly. "Good job kiddo," he congratulated. Sam squealed in excitement for the smiles and happy voices he was hearing. He was realizing that moving the red ball was a good thing. He tried again, but it was out of reach and that made him angry. He grunted and frowned. John reached over and pushed the ball back up toward his little boy's hands. "Here it is Sammy. Try again."

Sam struggled to move his arm and hand and it appeared for the first real time he was beginning to notice his body's limitations. He struggled as his hand jerked in an uncoordinated flick. He connected with the ball and it rolled just beyond his feet. "Woohoo, Sammy!" Dean cheered.

"Good boy," John added.

"He's doing great today," Katie replied. "It looks like he's trying to do things and realizing his body isn't quite up to speed. He may start having those temper tantrums we've warned you about." John nodded. He hadn't seen one yet, but he'd heard how agitated brain injury patients could become especially children.

**One Hour Later, Sam's Room**

John had picked up Sam after his therapy play session and put him down for a nap. He was often tired after a session. "Here we go Sammy," John gently placed his little boy on his bed and pulled a sheet and blanket up. Sam had little control of being able to turn, and the doctors had said it was best if Sam slept on his side until he had better control of his swallowing. Sam's young body with its gangly eleven year old limbs was easily pliable to John's gentle placements. He turned Sam on his side and wedged a pillow behind his child, so he wouldn't be able to roll over if he tried. He raised the side bars on the bed. "Here you go Sammy," John's voice was gentle. He reached for a furry blue rabbit with floppy hears that had been Sam's since he was six. "You want to take a nap with Hopper?" He lifted one of Sam's arms and placed the stuffed toy under it. He smiled as he watched Sam nuzzle closer to it and his eyes drift closed as sleep pulled him under. John pushed his child's hair back from his forehead and kissed him. "Sweet dreams Sammy."

Dean stood watching his father with his little brother. "Dad?" He began softly. "You talk to Jim?"

John looked up and motioned for them to leave Sam's room. They walked a short distance down to a tiny lobby area and sat down.

"Yes, and it seems everything is set for Sammy. He has a pilot friend that can fly Sammy from here to Blue Earth. He does medical transports among other things. And, the rehab is all arranged. I guess Jim knows a doctor in Blue Earth that is willing to treat Sam and they subsidize families with no insurance."

"Are they keeping Sammy?"

"Yes, they will provide 24 hour care and his rehab. We'll see him everyday while he's in there Dean, I promise. And, Jim also got you enrolled at the High School there in Blue Earth."

"I need to help Sammy Dad."

"And, you will be able to, bit you're not skipping school Dean. Classes are already in session, and I don't want you falling behind."

"It's a crock Dad," Dean complained. "Sam's more important."

"Look, I know school has never been your favorite thing, but I think that's my fault. I've moved you two boys around so much, but not now okay. Jim's house is big enough for all of us, and when I can I'll get us our own place, but for right now I think Jim's is the best option for all of us."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered in a deflated tone. "What about you? We're hunters dad?"

"No Dean," John's voice was firm. "It's not a life I want for you anymore. Look I can't promise I won't go on the occasional hunt when Joshua or Caleb need help, but you boys are more important." Dean knew deep down his father meant what he was saying and probably even believed it, but he also knew the pull of the hunt was too great for his dad, and that eventually he'd be on the road again looking for the demon. It was just a matter of time.

"So, when do we leave?"

"End of the week on Friday. I'm driving the Impala to Jim's and I thought you'd make the twenty-five minute flight with Sammy. Jim will meet you at the small air field and an ambulance will be there to take Sammy to the rehab center adjacent to the medical center. Jim's going to get the paperwork started and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I get to go with Sammy?"

"Yeah, they are going to give him a mild sedative for the flight, but just in case he gets scared I think it'd be better if one of us was there and I don't want you driving to Jim's place alone." Dean nodded.

**Three Weeks Later, Blue Earth Medical Center Rehab Facility, Late February 1995**

"John," Dr. Odden began. "Sam has made great strides since coming to Blue Earth. I attribute his youth to that and his family support system. I have to commend you and your older son for being such active participants in your son's rehabilitation."

"He still hasn't spoken yet," John replied. He had left Sam with Dean in his room. Sam's therapy today had gone well. Sam participated on his play therapy actively. And, Sam took his first steps today with assistance from his physical therapist Emma. "I mean, I'm thrilled he took steps today with help," John hurried to add. "But, will he learn his speech again?"

"John, his speech therapist sees him everyday and I'm confident that he'll start to try and verbalize soon, but how soon I'm not sure. And, his swallowing has improved and even that relatively simple task means a lot toward him learning speech once again. Also, his therapy to engage his left arm has taken huge strides. He is now using his left arm and hand more actively and I anticipate he'll keep doing so." John nodded. "Sam has only been with us for three weeks and each week he makes some form of progress."

"I know," John hedged. "I just …" his voice trailed off.

"I know a brain injury such as your son's isn't easy to deal with and I've seen this kind of accident and trauma break a part families, but you have the right perspective on things John. And, you shouldn't beat yourself up for occasionally wishing things were different. To be quite frank you may never totally let go of the son you knew before the near drowning, but …"

"I know," John started. "He's still my little boy no matter what." The doctor smiled and nodded.

"So, Jim tells me you took a job in town with an auto garage."

"Yeah, you know hunting isn't exactly a paying job."

"I know," the doctor agreed. He had been raised in a family of hunters, and had even participated in a few hunts when he was younger, but when a twenty-year old cousin had died from blood loss on a hunt when Dr. Kirk Odden was only seventeen, it was that incident which had pushed him into medicine, so that he'd have the knowledge to save a loved one or stranger. "Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to give you an update on Sam's progress and touch base over his first steps today. I'll let you get back to your boys." The doctor looked at his watch. "Sam's second half of play therapy should be just about over." The beeper on the man's belt went off and he saw it was from Sam's primary care nurse, Lynn Hodges. "John hold up a second." He picked up the phone and returned Lynn's page.

John stood and waited wondering what was going on that the doctor had him wait. He couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he heard the doctors last words before he hung up the phone, "Yeah, we're on our way. Go ahead and sedate him before he hurts himself. I've written an as needed order in his charts just reference the dosage there." The doctor hung up the phone and looked at John.

"What was that about?" John asked.

"Sam," the doctor answered bluntly. John's face paled.

"What? What's wrong with my son?" He barked.

"Apparently he became frustrated in play therapy and had an aggressive outburst and couldn't be calmed. These tantrum like events do happen, but it just seems Sam's had a full blown episode. Let's go. I want to check him out. I guess he was really thrashing about and really worked himself up."

John was out of the room in a flash.

The first thing John saw was Dean outside Sam's room leaned against the window looking into Sam's room from the hallway. His forehead was against the glass as he peered through the open blinds. "Dean, son?" John walked up and put a hand on his shoulder as Dr. Odden skirted past them to go examine his young patient.

"Dad, he just freaked out," Dean choked. "I tried to calm him down, I promise, but he wouldn't listen. It was like I wasn't even there. He just kept screaming and hitting." Dean looked up and John saw the raw desperation in his child's eyes.

"Dean this wasn't your fault sport," He put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "You know the doctors in Minneapolis told us this could happen and Dr. Odden did too. We'll help Sammy get through this," he paused. "We'll get through this Dean," he reiterated. John wanted Dean to understand that they would _all_ get through this one way or the other. They sat down the hall while doctor examined Sam. John looked over at his eldest as he leafed through a magazine he knew Dean wasn't reading, but merely trying to keep himself occupied while he waited to hear about his little brother. "Dean?"

"Yeah," he looked up at his father.

"You get a lot of homework at school today?"

"I got history and science," Dean started. "Why?"

"Cause it's after 6:00 and you should be getting to that. Plus, you need some dinner. I'll call Jim to come get you."

"I don't want to go Dad. Screw the homework," he blurted.

"Dean watch your mouth," John corrected softly. "You know," he stared as he rubbed a hand across his face. "I've got my eye on a truck, so if I get it I'm thinking I'll let you have the Impala, after all, you've been a licensed driver now for almost two months."

"Dad," Dean began.

"Don't Dean. Look you know the drill … you can spend as much time as you want with Sammy on Fridays after school, Saturdays, and Sundays, but during the school week you gotta hit the books. I'm not going to have you flunk out."

"Dad school was never my thing," Dean replied quickly. School is Sa…" his voice dropped off suddenly as he realized what he was about to say. His mind however still continued the thought in its own silent reverie, _school is Sammy's thing_. John saw the stricken look cross his son's countenance and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay Dean," he assured. "I'll call Jim," John stood up and then noticed that Dr. Odden had finally come out of Sam's room. "There's the doctor," he commented and Dean stood up. "Well?" John asked quickly as he and the doctor both closed the distance between them.

"He's fine John," the doctor assured. "He's sleeping off the mild sedative. Look we discussed that these tantrums could occur, and most likely would. We'll just play it by ear. I've explained that his cognitive and emotional responses are affected because of the brain damage and with further rehab it's my hope that these outbursts become more manageable as his rehab continues."

"Can we see him?"

"Of course," he replied quickly. "He'll most likely sleep an hour or two, and then his primary care nurse will give him a bath and get him ready for bedtime."

"I'd like to help with that," John spoke. Sam wasn't capable of self care and wore diapers, but John was hopeful that his baby boy would learn those things again and have some level of a life outside the walls of the rehab center. It scared him to think that if his child reached a plateau in his rehab they would say he should be institutionalized, but he'd have none of that. John had already started investigating getting help if Sam should be allowed to come home and needed twenty-four hour care.

"Sure," the doctor agreed with a smile.

**Blue Earth Pediatric Rehab Center, Mid-April 1995, Saturday Afternoon**

"Dee want ball," Sam sat unattended on the blue mat during his play therapy. Dean smiled at his little brother, and although he couldn't quite say Dean, it was close enough and music to his ears. Sam had begun verbalizing over a month ago and it appeared his language and speech centers in his brain although damaged had begun once again to be accessed.

"Dean make him tell you the color of the ball," Katie, Sam's play therapist requested.

"Sammy," Dean said with a smile as he picked up the ball to roll to his little brother. "What color is the ball?" Sam reached out with his hands and grunted. Sam balled up his fists and opened and closed them rapidly indicating he wanted the ball. "What color Sammy?" Dean urged.

"Want ball," Sam's child like response demanded.

"You can have it as soon as you tell me the color," Dean replied. Sam frowned and proceeded to slap his hand on the mat in frustration. Dean could see his cheeks beginning to redden and knew a tantrum would erupt soon. He cast a look at Katie.

"Sam," Katie clapped her hands to draw his attention to her. "What color is the ball? Dean needs help," she started. "He doesn't know the color, so you need to tell him."

"That's right Sammy," he agreed. Sam grunted in response.

"Ball," he demanded in no uncertain terms. "Ball!" Dean allowed a frustrated sigh to escape his lips.

"It's okay Dean," Katie assured. She stood up and picked up the ball and walked it across the room and put it inside a bright yellow plastic toy bin. "No more ball," Katie declared to Sam. Sam sat silent for a moment his young damaged mind trying to sort out what had just happened. His face reddened and fat tears began to well up and fall down his cheeks.

"Katie," Dean hedged. He hated to see his little brother upset. Sam's tears always threatened to break him.

"Dean, he's okay," she assured. "Just wait."

"Want ball," Sam screamed and bubbled through his frustrated tears. He struggled over onto his stomach and in a wobbly fashion climbed up to his knees and hands and in a haphazard crawl that more closely resembled a drunken man trying to crawl to the nearest toilet he made his way toward the bright yellow bin the ball had disappeared into.

"Do you see that?" Dean chirped as he turned wide eyes to Katie. She nodded.

"Want ball," Sam continued in his broken tear laced mantra. He made contact with the bin and pulled himself up to his knees with a grunt. "Ball!" he bellowed again. He reached one hand into the bin in an effort to get the toy, but he couldn't quite reach the deep part of the bin it had settled into. He moved a small jerky arm up and down as he hit the plush stuffed toys on top. He was furious.

"Maybe, I could…" Dean started.

"No, wait," Katie encouraged in her soft voice. And, then it happened …

"Ball! Red ball," Sam hiccupped though his tears of frustration. "Want red ball." Dean felt his throat close up and his chest tighten at his little brother's voice. Sam had identified the color of the ball on his own without any hints.

Dean reached over and pulled Sam into his lap. "Good boy Sammy," he spoke lovingly. Katie reached into the bin and handed the red ball to Dean. "Here you go." Dean started to hand his brother the ball and stopped when Sam looked into his face and studied him.

Sam looked into his brother's smiling face. He reached a hand up and touched Dean's cheek with an uncoordinated hand. "Dee…Happy?" Sam asked in a small voice. Dean laughed as hot tears sprung up in his eyes. His smile grew larger.

"Yeah, Sammy," he replied softly. "I'm happy." Katie nodded with a big smile. Sam had made taken huge steps today. Today, Sam not only named a color, but he was also able to assimilate his big brother's facial expression with an emotion. It was a big day for Sam Winchester.

**Later that Afternoon**

John had come to the center as soon as he could change out of his work uniform. He had already had the excited call from Dean and the good news about Sam's achievements for the day. He walked into his young son's room at the tail end of another play therapy session. Sam looked up from the blue mat and smiled. He reached his arms up in excitement. "Dada," came out as an excited squeal. His speech allowed the _Dada_ to form in his mouth, but not _Daddy_ … at least not yet.

"Hey kiddo," John reached down and picked his son up. "How's Dad's big boy?" Sam was nearing his twelfth birthday next month and was lanky and already showing signs of his impending height he'd achieve in puberty and subsequent adulthood, but John didn't care. Sam wanted picked up John would pick him up. Anyway, where Sam was a lanky and gangly eleven year old he was a lightweight. John held him on a hip while Sam wrapped himself around his father like a baby monkey. John nestled his chin on top of his little boy's chestnut curls. Sam nuzzled into his father and found comfort in his scent.

"Well, would you look at that," Dean commented. "I better alert the news media." John smiled.

"Must have won the lotto and no one told me," John replied with an amused face.

**Two Months Later, Blue Earth Pediatric Rehab Center, Early June 1995**

"Daddy!" Sam squealed from the kiddie exercise pool. His water play therapy instructor Rebecca waved at John as he walked into the pool area. "Daddy!" Sam slapped the water with a hand as he let partially go of Rebecca. He had a small life vest on that kept him buoyant in the pool. John had had difficulties when they started the water therapy for Sam's leg muscles to help his walking. It took him a couple weeks to be able to watch his little boy in the water without seeing him being pulled lifeless from the icy lake water. Fortunately, Sam had no memory of his lake experience and John was glad for that small grace. In fact, Sam loved the water and looked forward to pool time.

"Hey kiddo," John bent down to the edge of the pool and Sam wiggled out of Rebecca's arms and tried to reach his father, but Rebecca helped get him there. John took hold of Sam's outstretched arms and pulled him straight up out of the water. "There we go," he commented softly. He held securely to Sam as he wobbled to maintain his balance and once he saw his little boy get his balance he draped a fuzzy pale blue towel around his child and toweled him off. Sam walked into his father's arms and nuzzled against him. John looked over the wet chestnut curls of his son at his therapist. "How'd he do today?"

"He loves the water," she commented and silently John cringed. "He's making excellent progress." She glanced at Sam who had practically melted into his father's protective and warm embrace. "Sam tell your daddy what you did today." She urged in a playful tone. Sam stepped back on unsure feet and John steadied him.

"Daddy, I walk and Rebe said … said I good." Sam's speech was getting better, but he still made errors and called his therapist Rebe because he couldn't manage Rebecca. John didn't mind at all. There was a time he could remember when doctors weren't sure his boy would ever be capable of speech again.

"You walked?" he smiled and rubbed the towel over his son's dripping hair. "Show Daddy," he encouraged. John scooted back on his haunches, but not far and watched as Sam took four unsteady steps toward his father. He toddled like a baby, but he was walking and that's all that mattered to John. Sam wore a large dimpled smile on his face and he giggled with self satisfaction toward his new found mobility.

"See!" he squealed happily. "I walk."

"Yes, you did kiddo. Daddy's proud of you," he congratulated and he held Sam close. He could feel his son's young heart beating against his t-shirt. Sam was alive and mending to his best potential.

"What else Sam? Tell your Daddy what you did before we went in the pool." Rebecca urged. Sam's eyes widened as he remembered his other big news.

"I went to pottie ... by self," he replied in excitement. John looked at Rebecca and she smiled with a nod. Sam raised a hand up proudly extending a single finger. "I did a number one," he said with childlike pride.

"Good boy," John pulled his son into a hug. "Good boy Sammy. You'll be in big boy pants pretty soon." Sam giggled as he looked around the pool room briefly.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah sport?"

"Where Dee?" Sam's speech had improved, but he was still having problems pronouncing his big brother's name correctly.

"Dean's going to a school dance tonight Sammy," John answered. "He wanted to be here, but I told him to go."

"Dee dance?"

"Yes, Dean's at a dance."

"What dance?" John looked at Sam for a second and Rebecca nodded to him from her vantage at the pool's edge to answer Sam's question however he saw fit.

"You mean what is a dance?" John prompted. Sam nodded and looked at his father with wide expectant eyes. John's heart melted at the sheer innocence in his little boy's eyes. John smiled, "here better to show you." John reached his hands toward Sam. "Give Daddy your hand's Sammy," he urged. "Now, step on my feet," John tapped each foot and encouraged his son to put a foot on each of his own. He began to move from side to side and back and forth. He proceeded to do an old-fashioned box step with his baby son. Sam giggled. "This is dancing Sammy."

"Daddy fun!" he laughed. John chuckled. This moment would go under one of John's more memorable with his little boy. It seemed since Sam's accident that father and son had found one another again, and in some ways John felt the accident had saved his family, but at a high price. John felt he'd been given a second chance at being the father his boys deserved. Sam's laughter piped up again and John could only smile. "Faster Daddy," Sam begged with excitement.

**The next day, Saturday morning 9:00 AM, Jim's House**

Jim walked through the kitchen to grab a coffee. John had offered to help at the garage for a couple hours before going to the rehab. Jim knew Dean was still around somewhere, but had been scarce since returning home around 10:00 PM from the school dance the previous evening. He had spoken to his father about Sam and his progress for the day, but had offered little word about the dance other than a shrug and a quick _it wasn't bad_.

"Dean?" Jim called out, but the house remained silent. His eyes caught the glimpse of something through one of the kitchen windows. He stopped and looked. He saw Dean sitting on top of the picnic table further out in the yard staring off deep in thought. Jim let out a sigh and went to talk to the young man. "Mind if I sit?" Jim asked in a casual tone. Dean looked at the man briefly.

"Okay," he answered quietly. "So, Dad went into work today?"

"Yes, but only for a couple hours. They were short and he agreed as long as he was out of there in time to spend time with your brother in some of his therapies."

"Yeah, I should get up there." Dean was only sixteen, but he carried himself as if he were much older. It made Jim ache.

"You have time," Jim replied. "How about we talk?"

"About what?"

"Well, you didn't have a lot to say about the dance last night when your Dad and I asked you about it," Jim commented casually. "Was it fun? I mean in my day and age girls never asked the boys out to dances, well except during Sadie Hawkins and that Maggie girl is a real cutie," Jim smiled. Dean looked at Jim.

"Sadie what?" he asked. Jim chuckled.

"Nothing," he replied. "Obviously, it was something for us old timers and not you young kids these days. So, how was it?"

"I said it was okay," Dean answered with a slightly sharp tone.

"Dean what is it?" Jim pushed. "So, you didn't have fun? Did something happen with Maggie … you have a disagreement?"

"No," Dean sighed.

"Then what's the problem?" Jim hedged. Dean let out a long controlled sigh and cast a quick glance at Jim before settling his gaze to some distant point in the yard. "Well?" Jim urged.

"I had fun okay," Dean answered in a frustrated tone. Jim blinked in confusion.

"That's the problem?" He asked in a surprised voice. "You had fun … that's the problem?"

"Yeah," he complained and remained staring into the distance.

"Okay, did I miss something here sport," Jim replied. "Since when is having fun a problem?"

"Because," Dean answered simply.

"Because why?" Jim pushed.

"Because I had fun … at a dance … with a girl," Dean answered in a way that implied his answer was crystal clear and Jim was an idiot.

"Okay," Jim's voice drew the word out implying he still wasn't following Dean's train of thought. "Help an old man out Dean," he watched Dean with soft eyes. Dean sat silent for a long moment and then shifted his gaze to Jim and the anguish in them sucked all the air from Jim's lungs. "Dean? What is it? Talk to me," he pleaded softly.

"I had fun Jim," Dean answered brokenly as his stoic façade crumbled before the religious man's eyes. "I went to a dance with a girl. I hung out with friends," his speech was strained as he fought against the emotions bubbling to the surface. "Sammy won't have that … ever … I shouldn't be having fun when my little brother is … is…" Dean dropped his face into his young sixteen year old hands and began to cry. His shoulders hitched up and down as the sobs erupted from him. Jim wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he comforted. "Dean," he began. He wanted to say the right words, but what could he say to make this right. "You're aloud to have fun kiddo. It's okay." He smiled tentatively at the youth. "Sammy is getting better everyday, and who knows what's in store for him," Jim tried to placate the teenager. Dean lifted his face from his hands and turned his bloodshot eyes to Jim.

"You don't know," he hissed. "Nobody knows how much more progress Sammy's gonna make …"

"So, you're giving up on your brother?" Jim pushed.

"No, hell no!" he snapped. Jim raised an eyebrow at the teen's use of _hell_. Dean just shrugged. "I'd never give up on Sammy," he responded with a softer tone. "It's just … he'll never be on his own Jim," Dean lamented. "I mean," he hiccupped. "The newest tests from last week say that Sammy is basically a seven year old in a twelve year olds body, and not a regular seven year old, but one that has disabilities," he brushed away the hot tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes with angry hands.

"Hey," Jim began. "It wasn't that long ago that they said Sammy was sitting at a four or five year old range, he's doing well Dean, and who knows how far he'll come once he starts school." Dean turned wide-eyes to Jim.

"School?" he stammered. "Sammy can't go to school. The kids … they'll make fun of him."

"Dean it's a special school, and when Sam's ready to be released from the rehab center he'll come home and live with all of us and he'll get to go to school, a school for him."

"Dad didn't say anything to me," Dean replied.

"No reason to yet," Jim assured. "Dr. Odden was telling him the other day that when Sam is ready to be released that they'll make arrangements for him to attend _Minds in Motion Learning Academy_ it's for children with special needs," Jim answered. "Your father took a brochure from the doctor. He planned to talk to you about it soon, but didn't see a real point until we know when Sammy will get out of rehab and that is still probably a little ways away yet." Dean looked at the man.

"I've seen that place," he started. "They have a big playground with a red fence around it." Jim nodded. "It's not too far from my school. So, Sammy could go there?"

"Sam _will_ go there," Jim asserted. He needed Dean to believe that his little brother would have a life, the best life they could all give him. Dean offered a small smile. "So, is all this _I shouldn't be having fun _mumbo jumbo done and over … tell me about the dance and that cute Maggie girl." He leaned over and nudged Dean with a glint in his grey-blue eyes. Dean turned red and grinned sheepishly as he ducked his head.

**To Be Continued**

**So, what are you thinking? It is three chapters in now. It's a bit different than you're probably used to from me, but I really wanted to try a Weechester story that will progress up through the years as the boys grow into adulthood, and of course it's AU. I appreciate any comments or reviews you may have, but don't feel obligated to leave a review if you don't want to … I'm just happy you're reading the story and I hope you're enjoying it. Thanks!**


	4. So Eden Sank to Grief

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter isn't heavy on angst. I wanted to extend another big thank you to everyone taking the time to leave a review, I appreciate it! Enjoy the newest chapter, I hope.

**Chapter Four**

**So Eden Sank to Grief**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold, her early leaves a flower, but only so an hour. And, leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief, dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay."_ By Robert Frost

**Five Months Later, November 1995**

Sam sat bundled in his winter clothes in the back of Jim's four-door cobalt blue Suburu. Jim had offered to drive the family back to his house rather than John drive, so that they could visit with Sam. The young boy had been making this trip once or twice a week for the past month and half for day visits out of the rehab and care facility, but today was different … Sam was coming home to stay and it was in time for Thanksgiving.

"Dee look," Sam chirped as he pushed a finger against the window. "Big green man," he declared with a large dimpled smile. Dean and John both chuckled. Sam was pointing to the famous and rather quirky 'welcome sign' to Blue Earth. It was a large scale, full color version of the Jolly Green Giant and below his feet was the sign 'Welcome to Blue Earth.'

"That's the Jolly Green Giant Sammy," Dean answered. "Can you say Jolly Green Giant," Dean prompted. Sam scrunched his nose at the idea of trying to say so many syllables.

"J…" he started and stopped. He looked pensive. He had been through speech therapy and would continue to go for some time, but words sometimes felt trapped inside him.

"It's okay Sammy," John replied. "Try saying what you can."

"J… J…" Sam grunted. "Green Giant," he blurted and looked at his family for approval. Both Dean and John smiled.

"Good boy Sammy," John's voice was warm. Sam offered up another dimpled smile and clapped his hands in excitement.

"All white," Sam stared out the window at the passing scenery as they neared Jim's house.

"It's snow, Sammy, remember I showed it to you yesterday?" Dean replied.

"Snow?" Sam looked perplexed.

"Yep."

"Cold," Sam replied as he remembered his brother letting him feel it the other day when he'd taken him outside at the rehab center. Dean smiled again.

"Yes, very cold," Dean agreed. "Brrr…" he pretended to shiver and made a face at his little brother. Sam laughed at his big brother's antics.

"Dee funny," he chirped. John chuckled. John's eyes settled on the road as part of him continued to listen to his two son's talk in the backseat. There were moments still and John suspected there would always be moments when reality reared its horrible head and he realized that his baby boy would never again be the boy he was before the accident. But, when his mind went to the alternative of not having Sammy anymore his chest would clench and he knew that no matter what … it was better to have his son alive than not at all. If Sam hadn't survived it would have destroyed their family and John was sure that neither he nor Dean would have come back from that loss, at least not completely.

"Daddy! Look!" Sam squealed in excitement from the backseat and pulled John from his thoughts. Sam was jamming his little index finger against the fogged car window at the park and the young children snow tubing down hills.

"Yes, Sammy," John replied.

"What they doing?" Sam asked brokenly.

"Snow tubing Sammy," John answered.

"Want to," Sam replied.

"It's for big boys Sammy," John answered. "Maybe, next winter okay?"

"Want to try," Sam repeated. "Dee tell Daddy I big boy." Dean cast a sympathetic look at his father in the rear view mirror that seemed to convey a plea and an apology at the same time.

"Sammy, maybe Dad's right. Next winter," he offered.

"I big boy now!" Sam complained. "Please," he turned on the wide puppy eyes and John ran a hand across his face as his will began to crumble.

"It couldn't hurt him John," Jim offered from the driver's seat. "It'd be good exercise and Dean can ride with him. Maybe?" he looked at John briefly as he continued to drive. "I still have those one and two seat tubes they used a couple years ago." He offered with a smile.

"See," Sam bounced from his seat belted position. "Uncle Jim says … it good." John sighed as a mild smile crept at the edges of his mouth.

"Fine, Sammy," John relented. "Tomorrow, okay?"

"Love you Daddy," Sam replied with an excited child-like voice.

"Love you, too, buddy," John smiled. He met eyes with his eldest son in the rearview mirror and Dean smiled at his father. John returned the warm look and nodded.

**Jim's House, Ten Minutes Later**

"Okay, kiddo," John spoke. "We're home." Sam looked at Jim's place and recognized it from his previous day trips from the rehab.

"How long I stay," Sam asked as Dean unclipped his little brother's seat belt.

"Sammy," Dean started before his father could answer the question. "Remember what Dad and I told you? You're staying for good now. No going back to the center except for your therapies."

"I here now?" Sam smiled as he remembered what his father and brother had told him, but only now was it really making sense to him. "I home for always now?"

"Yes, Sammy for always," Dean ruffled his kid brother's hair.

"Come on buddy," John leaned in and helped Sam out of the backseat.

"I walk," Sam asserted.

"It's tricky Sammy," John spoke in a light, but parental tone. "It's slippery out here." Sam still had some problems walking and his face always looked very concentrated when he tried to walk. His coordination had him frequently tripping on his own feet, weaving or walking at an odd angle like a drunk, but he was improving with each therapy.

"Want try," Sam spoke with a defiant tone.

"Take my hand so you don't fall," John watched his little boy gauge him for a second and took his father's hand. The walk was slow and Sam weaved often bumping into his father's leg. Dean followed behind with two bags that belonged to Sam. Jim hurried forward to get the door open.

"Make noise," Sam said suddenly.

"What?" John asked as he looked down at his child.

"Snow," Sam replied as if he made perfect sense.

"Snow?" John looked at his son with curious eyes. Sometimes it was a guessing game trying to figure out what Sam was processing in his brain. "You mean the snow is making noises?"

"When walk," Sam replied. "What that noise?" John smiled. His son asked a lot of questions, but he was thrilled because that meant his cognitive functions were working and there was a time in his early prognosis that they weren't even sure Sam would have that much progress.

"The snow's crunching Sammy," John answered. "That noise is a crunch sound." Sam looked at his father with wide dark eyes and smiled. Sam stopped and put his foot down in a new area of snow and listened.

"Crr…crun…ch…" Sam sounded out slowly and looked to John for approval. He nodded.

"Good boy Sammy."

"Hey Sammy good job," Dean added after his father's supportive answer. John and Sam finally reached the five stairs that led up to the front porch of Jim's house and subsequently the front door. He eyed the stairs and looked at Sam.

"Here Sammy let me carry you up the stairs." Sam lifted his arms up toward his father. He stood about the height of his father's stomach and would soon be much taller. John smiled and swiveled around. "Here hop on and we'll piggy back." Sam didn't resist. The short walk from the car to the stairs had been taxing. John and Dean could both see that the wind was quickly depleting from Sam's sails, so to speak. "Come on kiddo, nap time."

"Not tired," Sam complained through a small yawn. John and Dean grinned.

"Sure you're not Sammy," John cooed as he felt his baby boy's head drop heavily against the back of his neck and nestle into his leather jacket.

**Two Hours Later**

"Is your brother still sleeping?" John asked as Dean walked into the kitchen from the large parlor room in Jim's house where Sam had curled up on the couch to nap.

"Yep, like a baby," Dean replied. "Need help?" He eyed the two men moving about the kitchen preparing lunch. John was pulling plates down while Jim opened the stove to check on the lasagna.

"No we're good," John answered. "You mind keeping an eye on your brother? I don't want him waking up and trying to navigate through the furniture," John stated evenly. "The last thing we need is a trip to the ER for some stitches if he falls and clips himself on something." Dean nodded leaving his father and Jim in the kitchen. He went back to watch his brother and some TV while he waited for Sammy to wake up.

"John you worry too much," Jim chided softly. "Anyway, you've practically baby-proofed this place … it's the Fort Knox of kid safety around here. Hell, this place is safer now than when you'd let Sammy crawl and walk around here when he was a baby." John offered a soft smile.

"Things are different now," he conceded.

"How?" Jim pushed. "You've done more to insure that Sam doesn't poke things into outlets or open cabinets in the kitchen that he can reach or not reach for that matter. Hell, you've even installed a safety lock for the basement door. And, you've even padded some of the corners on the furniture with those small safety child protective pads. Like I said, you've done more now than when he was a baby. Come on John," Jim spoke. "He's going to be fine."

"Jim," John's voice was quiet, but stern. "You weren't there the day they pulled him out of that lake. I was. He was dead Jim. Gone, my baby boy was gone. I wish I could forget what I saw when the diver brought him up, but I can't. Sammy's different now Jim. And, yeah, maybe I did more this time around than I ever did for him while he was a baby, but it's just …" his voice trailed off. Jim studied his long time friend.

"It's just what John?" He urged gently.

"I couldn't keep him safe on that hunt," John choked. "He nearly died and that's my fault. It's my job to keep my children safe and I've done a lousy job at it," John lamented. "I should have never started them hunting. I should have given them a real childhood. Mary would be so disappointed." Jim sighed.

"Johnny," he began softly. "None of this is your fault. Sam went out on that ice and the Wraith weakened the ice and he fell through … it wasn't your fault. Sam's progress wouldn't be nearly as good as it has been if it weren't for you and Dean," Jim encouraged. "John the way you've been there for Sammy and your patience with him, you're doing a great job. Lesser men would have crumbled into dust over the last eleven months. You're a good father and you love your boys."

"Jim…"

"Don't okay, there is no way you can manipulate me into thinking any different."

"So," John started. "You think I'm being too over protective of Sammy?"

"Nah," Jim smiled. "I know we all have to look out for him now because he won't look out for himself. I shouldn't be too hard on you," Jim began with a smile that betrayed he was guilty of something. John smiled in return.

"Why? What did you do?" Jim chuckled.

"I had a plumber install a scald protection device in the main bathroom that Sammy will be bathing in and I put down non-slip decals in the tub," he smiled. "Blue trucks and yellow ducks." John laughed out loud. "Well, the rehab said bright primary colors would stimulate his brain." John smiled warmly at his long time friend, thankful for Jim's presence in his family's life.

"I hadn't noticed," he replied with a broad smile. The five-bedroom house was large and all of the bedrooms had their own bathrooms, but were all showers except for the main bathroom which was a tub/shower combo they intended to bathe Sam in. The main bathroom was the all-purpose one for guests that was in the hallway. Sam would share a room with his big brother.

"Yeah, well it was going to be a surprise. After all, the rectory has been offering to do renovations on the house for a while since I didn't want the church housing at St. Mary's. John nodded.

"Thanks," John replied genuinely.

"Anything for family." The men's conversation was broken by a bleary eyed Sam standing in the doorway holding his big brother's hand.

"Look who's up from his nap," John spoke gently. Sam rubbed sleepily at an eye with a balled up fist.

"Daddy … hungry," Sam replied. Sam walked over to his father and hugged his arms around his waist. John wrapped his arms around his little boy and hugged him to himself for a moment.

"Well, kiddo," he started. "Lunch will be ready in a little bit. Dean will you open him up a fruit juice box to tide him over until lunch is done."

"Yeah, no problem. Come over here Sammy," Dean extended his hand to his brother again. "I think Uncle Jim bought some, so what do you want 'Great Gator Grape' or 'Super Shark Strawberry,' which is it?" Sam's eyes grew wide and he smiled.

"Shark!" He shouted as he eyed the juice box with the picture of the Great White circling a strawberry. Dean tousled his little brother's unruly bangs.

"Sure thing little man," he quipped.

**Later that Evening**

Sam lied on the couch with his big brother watching a Charlie Brown special. Sam was curled up on his side with his head resting in Dean's lap. John could hear Sammy's laugh filter up the hallway and he shared a smirk with Jim.

"It's a nice sound isn't it?" Jim replied.

"The best," John answered.

"Here you pull that end," Jim spoke casually. John nodded as they pulled the mattress cover over Sam's bed. They were covering Sam's mattress with a protective covering in case the young boy had an accident. "You think Sammy will need this?"

"Not sure," John replied. "He's been doing really well with not having accidents, but the kid's a deep sleeper these days, so I just want to cover all the bases. But, the center suggested I put those _Goodnight_ pants on Sammy. He hates them because they remind of diapers, but until he isn't having accidents at all he's still gonna need them at night."

"It's great having him back John."

"Yeah, it is. I don't even like thinking about the alternative."

"So, is he excited for Monday and starting at the learning center?"

"Yeah, I just hope it goes well ya know?"

"I'm sure it will, John. Sam wraps everyone around his little pinky without trying and the other kids will accept him." John nodded and glanced at his watch.

"That cartoon should almost be over and he needs a bath." John and Jim finished preparing Sam's bed next to his big brother's and then they both walked down the hall to the large family parlor area where the boys and the TV were. "Hey boys," John said as he entered the room.

"Hey Dad," Dean replied from the couch.

"Daddy," Sam's voice chimed in. "S…S…Snoopy's a doggie," he lifted his head from his brother's lap to sit up. "Duncan's a doggie, too," Sam seemed so excited that he had been able to identify Jim's golden Labrador that slept curled up across the room on a tartan covered dog pillow bed.

"Yes, he is," John agreed. "Good boy Sammy," he congratulated. "Hey, kiddo it's bath time." John replied.

"I got him Dad," Dean said quickly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Dean said smiling as he looked over at his little brother. "So, what do you say Sammy, are you ready for bath time?" He reached over and playfully tickled Sam's stomach. Sam giggled.

"I get piggy back?"

"Sure thing monkey boy," Dean kidded.

"I not monkey," Sam chided with a dimpled grin.

"You're not?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Hey, Dad did you know that Sammy isn't a monkey boy?"

"He isn't?" John played along.

"Daddy stop," Sam wrinkled his brow and grunted. "I not monkey."

"Okay, okay," John raised his hands in submission. "Sammy isn't a monkey boy." Sam turned a satisfied look at his big brother.

"Come on kiddo," Dean encouraged his little brother to hop on his back for a ride to the bathroom.

"Dean," John called out.

"Yeah?" Dean stopped midway to the bathroom.

"I already put his pajamas and other things in the bathroom. You just need to run the water and stuff. The Mr. Bubble is under the sink in the vanity."

"Thanks Dad." John nodded.

"Dean stay with him okay?" John worried about Sam near water now. His young boy seemed to have a fascination with it and John had taken notice of that at the rehab when Sam was first started on his water therapy. He had also gone on a small outing on the rehab premises with his father and Dean and had gone straight for the duck pond. John shuddered at the memory of his little boy stumbling and almost falling in.

"I will Dad. It's okay," Dean gave an encouraging nod. "Come on kiddo."

"Want my boat to play in water," Sam squealed to his brother as Dean piggy backed his little brother toward the bathroom.

"Sure thing kiddo."

**Later the Next Day, Centennial Park**

John and Jim sat and watched Dean and Sam ride the two person tube up and down the small hills in the park. The place was filled with other children and their families. John watched Sam struggle in the snow and Dean was always there to lend a helping hand and encouragement when it looked like Sam might have a tantrum out of frustration. He watched Dean lean in and say something to his little brother and Sam giggled. John smiled.

"Well, that's a big change from last night's little episode, huh?" Jim commented idly. John ran a tired hand over his eyes.

"Yeah," his reply sounding more like a sigh than an actual response. "I never expected him to get so upset over the nighttime diapers, but what am I supposed to do?" John lamented. "Let him have an accident and wet the bed? Wouldn't that embarrass him more than the diaper at night? I mean they pull on and off like underwear, I just thought …"

"You just thought he wouldn't notice the difference between those and his Batman underwear?" Jim's voice was incredulous. "Johnny, they used those on him in the rehab, he knows the difference."

"I guess," he conceded.

"John let him wear his Batman underwear like he wants to … the most that's gonna happen is he wets the bed and we're covered on that. We'll just have to wash the sheets that's all and maybe that's what he needs to learn to wake up to go when he has to."

"Jim his Goodnight pants were wet this morning …"

"John," Jim began. "Rome wasn't built in a day and considering where Sam was almost a year ago this isn't a big deal." John nodded. "Frankly, I'm surprised he even quieted down last night and kept them on."

"Me too. But, he still cried himself to sleep and didn't want a story."

"Baby steps, Johnny, baby steps," his friend encouraged.

"Go again!" Sam squealed at his big brother. "Dee!"

"Okay, Sammy, geez," Dean panted "aren't you tired yet?"

"No, I big boy," Sam answered with a smile. "Big boy not get tired."

"Sure buddy whatever you say," Dean smiled with a glint. He was certain that the moment they got back to the car and headed home his little brother would probably pass out cold in the backseat. "One more time, okay? We'll do the bigger hill and then we're done."

"No, want to stay," Sam complained.

"Sammy, I'm tired kiddo. Maybe, we'll come again next weekend." Sam frowned. "Hey big boys don't pout."

"What p … p… pout?" Sam demanded. Dean grinned and demonstrated with his face.

"That's a pout and you know something …" he started.

"What?" Sam asked.

"You do it too much and one day your face is gonna freeze like that," he said seriously and watched his kid brother's eyes go wide. "Just kidding Sammy," he assured. He could see the pensive and scared look slowly coming over his brother and was quick to allay his young fears. Dean still hadn't consummated his mind to the brother that remained after the lake accident. The old Sammy would have understood the jesting joke, the old Sammy would have laughed, _but there was no point on looking back_, he thought quietly to himself, _that was then and this is now_.

"Dee?" Sam asked quietly as he held his brother's hand as they trudged through the snow up the larger hill for their last run.

"Yeah?"

"Do big boys p … p … pout?"

"Nope," he answered casually. Sam stopped suddenly and gently tugged on his big brother's hand and Dean knelt down when he saw Sam's serious face. His little face drew near his brother's and his voice was quiet. "Sammy what's wrong?" he scanned his brother's face.

"Dee?" he spoke quietly. "Do big boys … wet bed…" his young voice and speech were broken and Dean saw the silent pain in his sibling's eyes. He looked at Sam and his chest ached. For the most part Sam didn't realize the differences he was now faced with, although he had begun to recognize some of his limitations during rehab. He was thankful that Sam didn't really remember the Sam that existed before the accident. He was thankful he remembered their lives for the most part and the young boy knew to keep quiet about demons and spirits, and to this day he still had no recollection of the accident. Dean was silently thankful for that one grace.

"Sammy," Dean knelt on his knees in the snow. "Even big boys have accidents. You'll learn, okay? Pretty soon, you watch you'll be out of your _Goodnight_ pants in no time." Sam brightened at his brother's words. "So, you ready for the last tube ride of the day?" Dean reached up and pulled down Sam's hat to cover more of his little brother's ears growing red from the cold air. Sam clapped his hands in excitement.

**Two Days Later, Jim's House**

"Okay, Sammy," John grunted as he fought to get his young son's foot in his sock. Sam giggled as he dodged the white sock his father was trying to get on his foot. "Sammy, enough," John chided. "We'll be late for your rehab."

"Daddy … no go. I here."

"Sammy, you'll be coming home later," John assured. "Remember I told you that you still had to see the doctors and go to your rehab, and then you can come back to Uncle Jim's."

"Promise?"

"I promise," John reached up and ruffled his child's hair. "Now, give me your foot." Sam relented and stilled his dodging foot. John slid it into the sock easily. "Good boy. You know pretty soon you'll be able to dress yourself Sammy if you keep trying at your therapy classes." Sam smiled and then looked around the kitchen.

"Where Dee?"

"He told you last night Sammy," John began. "Remember what he said to you?" Sam looked pensive as he fought to gain access with his short term memory that still had problems since the drowning. John saw the lights go on in his son's eyes for a moment as the memory came to him.

"Dee in school," Sam said smiling.

"Yes, he is," John answered.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"When I go?"

"Go where?"

"Big boy school like Dee."

"Well," John crouched down in front of the chair that his little boy was sitting on. "You get to go to an extra special school where you can make lots of friends and learn all sorts of things. We're going tomorrow, so you can meet all of your teachers and you get to start school next week." Sam's eyes went wide in excitement.

"I go school too? In week?"

"Yep."

"At Dee school … big boy school?"

"No," John supplied. "Your big brother is a lot older than you Sammy and his school is for children his age. You get your own special school. Isn't that fun?" John tried to sound upbeat when silently a little piece of him still ached at the reality of what his, Dean's and especially Sammy's life had become, but he was happy his boy would be learning once again and hopefully the school would help him progress and increase his cognition.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?" John said as he pulled Sam up from the chair to put a jacket on his child to keep out the cold winter air.

"How long week? What is week?" John walked Sam over to a calendar and pointed to the days.

"This is today Sammy and this," John pointed to the following week on a Monday. "This is when you get to go to your school. See," John pointed. "Uncle Jim marks off the days with this marker, so each night before bed you can mark the calendar and you'll know how close you are to starting school." John grabbed a spare marker from a drawer. "Here we'll circle your big day, so you know, okay"

"Okay, Daddy." Sam's voice sounded so young and innocent.

"What color is Daddy using to mark your big day Sammy?" John encouraged his son.

"Blue," Sam answered excitedly. John smiled.

"Good boy, now let's get going or we'll be late." John grabbed a small bag that held a change of clothes for Sammy therapies, plus some swim trunks for his water therapy.

**The Blue Earth Pediatric Rehab Center**

John walked in with Sam holding his hand. He walked to the registration desk and signed his son into the book. "You're all set Mr. Winchester," Karen the receptionist. "You can take Sam back and get him settled for his day." She smiled and waved at Sam. "Hi Sam," she replied with a smile. Sam smiled, but clung to his father's side. "Oh, come now since when are you the shy one, huh?"

"What shy?" Sam asked suddenly.

"You're hiding buddy," John replied softly as he tried to extricate his young son from his side. "That's what Karen means. She said hi and you tried to hide. That's being shy." John was becoming accustomed to his son acting like a young 5 or 6 and not like his 12 years he actually was. The doctors had said that his emotional and cognitive deficits could improve, but would never be normal.

"Not shy," he stepped away from his father's side. Karen smiled.

"Well, let's go Sammy. I bet Katie is waiting for you." Sam took his father's hand once again.

"Katie," John began as he released Sam into the playroom and watched his son make his unsteady way across the room to the toy bin. "I have to work today for a few hours. I know he has a full therapy day, so his brother will be picking him up when he gets out of school."

"Okay, not a problem."

"Thanks." Katie nodded. John walked across the room. He crouched down in front of his child. "Well, Sammy Daddy has to go to work now, okay? You be a good boy and do all your therapies, okay?"

"Daddy stay," Sam turned his soulful dark eyes to his father. John's heart melted. He ruffled his boy's hair and pulled him into a quick embrace.

"Daddy can't little man. I have to work. But, Dean will be here to pick you up later when you're all done and he gets out of school, okay?"

"'Kay," Sam answered and dropped his eyes.

"Hey, none of that sport. I'll see you tonight," John spoke softly. "Hey, I'll stop and get some ice cream and bring it home … how's that sound?" Sam smiled and grabbed his father and hugged him.

"Cream yummy," Sam replied. "See later," he looked at his father for confirmation.

"Yes, I'll see you later tonight kiddo," John stood up. "You listen to Katie, okay? Be a good boy." Sam smiled.

**Later that Night**

"Bedtime Sammy," John called out as he walked into the room from the kitchen. Sam was curled up on the couch with his head resting against Jim's dog, Duncan. Dean sat at a desk and worked on his homework near his brother.

"No, Daddy not tired."

"Sammy, it's bedtime. You need to sleep."

"Had nap."

"Yes, but let's go," John walked over and scooped up his baby boy. "The plane needs to fly to the hanger now," he made a puttering noise mimicking an old propeller plane.

"No, Daddy. I go to bed when Dee go." Dean looked up and smiled.

"Sammy, I've got school work to do. I'll be in later."

"Then I want night kiss," Sam looked at his big brother. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sammy," he implored. "How about a hug? You're too old for kisses." Sam pouted and looked devastated. Dean sighed. John put his child down and Sam hurried over to Dean almost stumbling when his left foot became hung up on the area rug. Both older Winchesters jerked in alarm both getting ready to catch the boy and break his fall, but Sam remained standing and made his way over to his older brother. Sam walked up to Dean and promptly put both hands on each side of his big brother's face and pulled his head down and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Swee … Dre… Dee," he his young voice hurried along. Dean couldn't help, but enjoy the simple feeling of joy and love that filled him when he looked at his little brother. Sam's language skills still improving, but Dean knew what he was saying, _Sweet Dreams Dean_. Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair and pushed his kid brother's unruly bangs back. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead in return.

"Sweet Dreams Sammy," he said softly and smiled. John scooped up his young son once again.

"Come on kiddo," John was relieved that Sam had been trying to improve his bed wetting and had relented to wearing protective sleeping diapers until he could accomplish a dry night for an entire month. Sam saw Jim come out of the kitchen.

"Night, night … Uncle Jim," he piped up as his father cradled him against his chest and in his arms. Sam's gangly limbs hung over his arms. Jim smiled.

"Goodnight Sammy, sleep well." Sam smiled and John turned toward the hallway with his little boy.

"Make mark for school," Sam said quickly as he twisted in his father's arms pointing to the kitchen. John chuckled. Sam had been religious about marking off the calendar on the refrigerator as the days grew closer for him to start school. The tour had gone well and Sam liked his main teacher Ms. Penny Renault. But, she encouraged all of her students to call her Ms. Penny. The school had a lot to offer Sam and John was looking forward to the potential his young son may be able to reach by going to the special school. He would attend from 8:00 am until 12:00 pm, Monday through Friday and then the school transports those children receiving some kind of rehab at the Pediatric Center by shuttle bus and that provided the children's families a break in trying to manage everything. John was appreciative of that. Sam would rehab Monday – Friday once classes started from 12:30 to 3:30 pm and then need picked by either himself, Dean or Jim. It was a lot, but he knew the more stimulus Sammy received the better his chances were at gaining as much as he could in recovery.

"Okay, Sammy," John turned and carried Sam to the kitchen. John handed him the fat marker and Sam struggled to hold it. His manual dexterity issues were still very apparent, but clearly improving with each new therapy day. He made a sloppy 'X' in the box marking Tuesday and handed the marker back to his father. "Good boy Sammy." John scooped Sam back up and headed for his bedroom.

"Daddy," Sam's voice was soft.

"Yeah?"

"Read story," he asked as John approached the bedroom.

"Alright," John agreed as he put Sam into bed and pulled up the covers. He reached over and pulled up one side of the toddler safety bars he had installed on his son's twin bed to keep Sam from falling out of bed at night. "What do you want?" Sam pointed at the nightstand and the book that sat on it." John shook his head in disbelief. "Again? Aren't you tired of it?"

"No," Sam piped up.

"You sure? You've got some good ones here. How about the _Thunder Cats and the Secret of the Golden Circle_?"

"No, want," Sam pointed with an index finger to the book John had been reading almost every night to his son either in part or whole depending on how fast he fell asleep for the better part of a week. John smiled softly and sighed.

"Okay, _Goodnight Moon_ it is," he sat down and let Sam nestle close to him as he opened the book. John looked down at Sam and in that moment he felt peace.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Thanks for reading! **


	5. Let this Moment Pass

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks as always for each and every review! I appreciate it. This chapter isn't super long, only about 12 pages or so. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Reading.

**Chapter Five**

**Let this Moment Pass**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _Let this moment pass, wait until the morning. Close your eyes and let me see who you used to be, left without a warning …"_ lyric excerpt by Janis Ian, _When Angels Cry_

**Almost Two Months Later – January 1996**

John sat with Sam and Jim in the bleachers as Dean threw the football toward a teammate. John stood up in excitement as a touchdown was made for the Blue Earth Buccaneer's. It was the section playoffs with the Montevideo Thunder Hawks and the BUCS were ahead. Jim had gently suggested he thought Dean should get involved with extra curricular activities in school since Sammy was either attending _Minds in Motion_ or at the pediatric rehab a lot of the time. John had agreed and had pushed Dean into finding a sport. His eldest son had baulked at the idea claiming he wanted to help with Sam's rehab, but John had told him 'no' and that he could help Sammy at home with his picture cards and other therapies.

To everyone's surprise Dean tried out and made Varsity on the first round of tryouts. The cold January Minnesota wind whipped through the bleachers. The crowd sat huddled under blankets and wrapped in thick jackets. John sat with his arm wrapped around Sam who watched his brother run up and down the field. Sam would clap and squeal with excitement.

"Daddy! Look!" Sam shouted and pointed at his big brother. "Dee threw that ball far away, see!"

"I see Sammy." John replied with a smile. Sam had continued to make progress and the school and rehab combined were wonderful assets in his little boy's life. Sam hadn't cognitively advanced that much in the last couple months and he was still near the cognition and emotional level of a six or seven year old, but one with clear disabilities. It was still sometimes difficult to reconcile the 12 year old body that sat next to him with the child's mind embodied in those lanky limbs. "You warm enough kiddo?" John looked over at his young son. Sam looked at him with a red nose and cheeks.

"I warm," he answered quickly his excited eyes darting back to the field to watch his big brother. This was his first game he'd been allowed to come to since Dean started playing football. This game started two hours before his bedtime and he'd been able to come. The other games always started after his bedtime or right before he was supposed to be in bed. The local TV played the game, but this was so much more fun.

"You sure?" John nestled the thermal blanket around Sam as he pulled his child closer to his side to instill some warmth. He reached up and made sure the hood on Sam's head was still tied. Sam's only response was to squeal his brother's name as Dean ran down the field and had just finished a 19 yard run before he was tackled.

"Dee fall down," Sam shot worried eyes to his father. John looked out at the field and saw Dean take the hand of another teammate and stand up.

"He's okay Sammy, see," he pointed and Sam turned his concerned eyes back to his big brother and smiled. John watched Dean interact with some of his teammates and friends on the field. He had been surprised how quickly his first born had started acquiring friends. Dean had always been aloof in school, but John recounted with sadness … _I made him that way because of hunting_ … John had realized with a heavy heart since Sam's accident that he had been robbing his boys of their childhood's. Dean deserved his youth and Sammy, well, he deserved a _hell of a lot more_, John thought bitterly. Jim seemed to sense the inner struggle happening inside his friend and reached a hand over and clasped John's forearm for a moment and squeezed. John offered a thin smile and quick nod. Two men saying volumes to each other without saying a word. John turned back to watching Dean and keeping Sammy close.

**Half-time**

The bundled up Cheerleaders took to the field with the band. Sam stood up and waved at Dean when he noticed his big brother looking into the stands. John had been able to get seats right behind the team benches. "Dee! Dee!" Dean waved back.

"Who's that Winchester?" Tyler Grey asked his friend and team mate. "That your family?" Tyler had met John Winchester before, but not the other two occupants of the metal bleachers.

"Yeah, it's the first game they've been able to attend all together. My Dad never misses any, but tonight's the first night they're all here." Dean and Tyler had taken to one another quickly. They had first met through the football team tryouts and then discovered they not only shared classes, but their girlfriend's were best friends so they double dated a lot. Dean had started dating Maggie Reynolds on and off after the school dance he had gone to and they had officially started using terms like 'my girlfriend' and 'my boyfriend' in reference to one another.

"That your kid brother?" Tyler asked. Tyler had been curious about the illusive kid brother he'd never met. He had a kid brother the same age, too, and had asked his sibling Cody if he knew a Sam Winchester in his class and his little brother had said, 'no.' He never asked Dean why his brother didn't attend Blue Earth Elementary.

"Yeah, that's Sammy," Dean answered with pride. "And, that's my Uncle Jim and you've met my Dad already."

"Wait, is that Pastor Jim from St. Mary's? He's your Uncle?"

"Yeah." Dean answered without skipping a beat.

"He's cool," Tyler offered. "But, damn, I bet you don't get away with anything."

"Jim's pretty laid back," Dean admitted with a warm smile as he remembered the talks he had had with the man concerning girls.

"It figures your uncle would turn out to be the only cool preacher on the planet that I've met." Tyler joked. "You know Cody," Tyler began out of the blue. Dean looked at his friend and nodded. He had met his friend's little brother. "He said he's never met Sam in school …" he trailed off letting the implication of the question settle over Dean without pushing. He noticed this fleeting moment of some emotion pass through Dean's eyes and it was gone quickly.

"He goes to another school nearby." Dean offered. Tyler quirked an eyebrow at Dean.

"What? The kid goes to Chandler?" Tyler smiled at the thought of Dean's kid brother attending the private frou-frou school at the edge of the city. "Man, so how'd you end up in public school? Chandler has high school classes, too."

"Not Chandler," Dean ground out. He wasn't embarrassed of his little brother, but he didn't want people feeling sorry for his family either, so he had never said anything about Sam's condition.

"Not Chandler? What the hell is left in this Podunk town?" Tyler looked at his friend in confusion. Dean studied Tyler for a long moment.

"He goes to _Minds in Motion Learning Academy_," he answered bluntly. Tyler's face softened immediately.

"Oh, Dean man, I'm sorry … I didn't know. Why didn't you say somethin'?" Dean frowned at his friend.

"Because that's why," Dean pointed at his friend. "That look and sayin' you're sorry. Sorry for what?" Dean hissed under his breath. "I don't need some pity party for my family. Sammy's fine, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I mean…" Tyler raised a placating hand. "I didn't mean anything by it," he assured. "It's just you could have told me you know? Hell, the other guys, too." Tyler was indicating their circle of friends that they hung out with from the team as they sat on the team bench in the distance.

"What's to tell?" Dean spoke evenly. "Sam's Sam," he said confidently. "I'm not ashamed of him," his eyes narrowed. "It's just I don't need anybody feeling bad for my family or my little brother."

"Geez, Dean, dude, chill out," Tyler smiled. "We're friends okay? I'm not judging." Dean dropped his eyes.

"Sorry," he offered quietly. It seemed almost surreal that he was having this kind of conversation and it was happening on the side lines with the band playing music and the cheerleaders hopping around in the snow flurries that had begun to fall.

"It's okay," Tyler assured. "Hey, you know Todd's older sister was born with cerebral palsy. She's got her own apartment and goes to a college. Grad school actually."

"Todd never said anything," Dean replied. "I mean I knew he had an older sister in college … ah, special education degree right?"

"Yeah, I guess Todd's folks made sure she had all this help and therapy from when she was a baby and she's as sharp as a tack," Tyler commented.

"You meet her?"

"Well, yeah," he landed a deadpanned look at Dean. "I've known Todd since we were in nursery school man. I grew up around Cathy. So," he began a tentative approach. "Was Sam born disabled?"

"No," Dean answered more harshly than he had intended. His look softened toward his friend. "No, a little over a year ago he fell through some ice and …" Tyler cut his friend off.

"Wait," he looked intensely at his friend. "Mile Lacs Lake?" Dean turned wide eyes on Tyler.

"Yeah, how the hell…"

"It was on TV dude. I remember it was all over the news here. They said a kid fell through the ice up at the lake and they flew him to Minneapolis on the Life Link Helicopter, right? He was like under the water almost an hour or something. Shit, that was your little brother?"

"It was 45 minutes," Dean corrected. "It was on the news?"

"Yeah, man," Tyler cast his eyes toward the bleachers and looked at Sam who was currently playing some form of thumb wars with the man he knew as Pastor Jim. "The news never really did a follow up other than to say the hospital had been able to revive him after something like 2 hours and that he was in a coma, but I lost track after that."

"I didn't realize it had been on the news. I had a lot on my mind back then," Dean offered.

"Hey," Tyler said with a smile. "Half-time isn't over yet, why don't you introduce me to your little brother."

"You sure?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Alright come on." Both boys hustled the short distance toward the bleachers. Sam saw his big brother coming his way.

"Daddy, here comes Dee!"

"I see Sammy," John chuckled. John also noticed that Tyler Grey was running along with his son.

"Dee!" Sam shouted and clapped his hands. He stood up and took a step near the metal banister. John leaned forward keeping a steadying and protective hand on his son's jacket.

"Hey Sammy," Dean replied. "How you doin' kiddo? You warm enough?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Daddy already asked … I warm," he answered with a dimpled smile.

"Great game so far son," John spoke with pride.

"Thanks Dad," Dean smiled and could see Sammy was looking at Tyler. "Hey Sammy, I want you to meet Tyler. He's a good friend." Sam eyed the new face in front of him.

"Hi Sam," Tyler stepped forward. "It's nice to meet you."

"You play with Dee out there?" He could see Tyler and his brother both wore similar gear with red and gold numbers.

"I do," he smiled. "So, how old are you Sam?" Sam smiled and extended both hands and then looked perplexed. "What's wrong there sport?"

"I not have enough fingers."

"Well, that's okay," Tyler added before John or Dean could say anything. "You can tell me how old you are without your fingers," Sam looked at him. "Hey, I don't have enough fingers for my age either," he consoled. "So, how old buddy?"

"Twelve, but I be big boy soon."

"Twelve?" Tyler smiled and mimicked a surprised sound. "You sure you're not at least thirty maybe forty," he kidded. Sam laughed.

"Forty old," Sam scrunched his face up.

"Hey," John and Jim said in unison. "You callin' your Dad and Uncle Jim old?" John kidded with his young son.

"Daddy," Sam's tone was exasperated at the idea his father was old. "You and Uncle Jim not that old," his dimples dug deep into his cheeks.

"Really?" Jim asked. "How old are we Sammy?"

"At least twenty," Sam answered honestly. Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, well kiddo you keep thinkin' that," John encouraged.

"Hi Mr. Winchester," Tyler didn't want to ignore Dean's dad.

"Hey, Tyler. You ran a good scrimmage on that last play."

"Thanks," Tyler dropped his head sheepishly. His own father was usually too busy to attend games, but his mother helped out in the concession stand in support of her son, but she had trouble watching him be tackled, so she found a way to be there, but not watch and his little brother usually helped her or sat with their neighbors in the stands. "Hi Pastor Jim," Tyler extended a hand.

"Hi Tyler. I haven't seen you at the parish for a while."

"Yeah, sorry … you know …" Tyler dropped his eyes. Jim smiled.

"I was young once too," Jim assured.

The coach called out to his two players and Dean and Tyler waved back in acknowledgement. "Well, it was nice meetin' you Sam," Tyler smiled.

"Bye Ty," Sam replied with wide excited eyes.

"Ty, huh?" Tyler responded. "I kinda like that kiddo. Ty it is." Dean had a new appreciation for his friend. Dean met Tyler's eyes and nodded.

John watched his son run back toward the field and couldn't believe that in another week his first born would be turning seventeen. He was proud of the man he'd grown into.

**Six Month's Later, Jim's House, June 1996**

The summer had started off quietly. Dean was out of school for the summer and was spending time with his family and friends. Sam still attended rehab and summer camp at _Minds in Motion_. John had liked the idea that Sam's school did year round learning, but they did close for two weeks in June and one week in July. John walked through the large house and glanced in his boy's room. He knew Dean was at summer football camp for the day and wouldn't be back until tonight. "Sammy?" John had been on the phone with Caleb discussing the idea of helping out on a hunt an hour outside of Blue Earth. It would be a quick in out deal and he was a bit itchy for a hunt, even a small one. He had taken the week off from work at the auto shop to spend it near his boys.

"Jim where's Sammy?" Jim looked up from his paperwork in his office. He was preparing the sermon for the Sunday service at the end of the week.

"Hmm?" Jim looked up at his friend.

"Sammy, has he been in here?"

"I thought he was with you in the kitchen?" Jim said as he stood up.

"He was, but he wandered off," John complained. "I figured he came in here to see you. Where the hell could he be? Sammy!" John bellowed as he walked into the family parlor room. "Samuel Michael Winchester answer me," John demanded. "Dad's not playing hide and seek." John secretly hoped his young son was just playing. Sam loved hide and seek. He could play it for hours if he was allowed to. John looked around sharply, "Jim where's the dog?" Jim frowned. Duncan and Sammy were two peas in a pod. Sam loved to watch Duncan run after sticks and dive into the pond on his property. They had all spent a couple hours out there just yesterday. Both men seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same moment, but John voiced his terror for both of them. "Oh, Jesus, no," John turned pale as he was already running out the door. "The pond Jim," he shouted over his shoulder and both men ran.

John and Jim arrived at the pond. "Sammy!" John screamed as he scanned the surface of the water frantically with his eyes. Both men saw Duncan sitting at the water's edge wagging his tail as he gnawed on a stick. "Sammy, please!" John cast worried eyes toward Jim and saw the color drain from the man's face, "What?" John hissed as his eyes followed Jim's.

"That there … what is …" that was all John needed to hear as he saw something out in the water near an overgrowth of pond reed and grass. It looked like a small brown mass of something and it waved eerily like hair, chestnut hair just below the surface. John dove in and frantically swam toward the small brown mass just below the surface. Jim felt his heart frantically beating as John closed in on the small brown mass.

"_Please, dear Lord, don't take the child,_" Jim silently prayed in his head. "_Not now, not after everything, please_."

John reached the brown mass his hands frantic to find his child and pull him to the air to make him okay. His fingers hit the mass and slid into a squishy mass of brown algae like material. It wasn't his baby boy. "John!" Jim shouted because he couldn't see what was happening because his friend's back was to him. All he could think was that his old friend had just found his youngest child beneath the watery surface.

"It's not Sammy," John called back. Jim let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. John tread water as he looked around frantically. He began to dive beneath the murky surface in an attempt to find his little boy, although he knew in his heart if he did find his child in this pond he would be beyond help, beyond saving. John surfaced again after his fifth dive.

"Anything?" Jim was panicked. John shook his head. "I'll run back and call 911," Jim felt rage at the fact they hadn't thought to do that before running out to the pond.

"No! No time," John shouted. "Sammy! Sammy!" John went back to scanning the water and the perimeter of the pond where a child could fall in and become entangled in weeds. "Sammy!"

"Daddy," a quiet sleep inflected voice called out from a tall thicket of sunflowers and reed. Jim turned urgently toward the small sounding voice daring to hope. Jim ran over to the thicket a good ten feet away from the water's edge.

"Sammy?" His voice was frantic and hopeful. Jim looked into the thicket and there surrounded by tall sunflower stalks and thick green grass in a flattened spot was Sam. Jim saw the unruly chestnut hair first and then he saw wide dark eyes peering up through the thicket. He saw Sam rub at his eyes sleepily. "Sam!" Jim reached in and grabbed the boy. "Where have you been?"

"Got sleepy," Sam rubbed his eyes. "I play with Duncan, but I just lay down. Where Daddy? I heard him." Jim gathered the lanky, now thirteen year old up into his arms. He put an arm under the back of Sam's knees and one under his arms and scooped him up. He walked to the water's edge looking for John and knew John had dived below once again looking for his child. Sam dropped his head onto Jim's shoulder.

"Where Daddy?" He asked sleepily.

"Daddy's taking a little swim Sammy."

"'Kay," Sam answered more asleep than awake and he drifted off in Jim's arms. Sam's arms hung limply at his sides and dangled. John surfaced and Jim took the opportunity to yell at his friend.

"John!" The father's head snapped toward his friend's shout. What he saw chilled him to the core. Sam was cradled gently in Jim's grasp as his young arms hung limply, lifelessly at his sides.

"Oh God," John began to swim frenetically toward the shore.

"John, it's okay," Jim called out. Sam didn't even stir. Jim couldn't help, but smile at how deep the kid could nap. John was out of the water and running toward Jim and Sam. Jim made a shushing noise with his mouth and John knew his boy was just sleeping.

"Where was he?" John asked in an urgent hushed tone.

"Over there. He fell asleep." John reached out a shaking hand and touched his son's head and caressed his long hair. He smiled as he felt the soft tendrils of hair slide through his calloused hands. Sam stirred and opened his eyes slightly. John met eyes with his child.

"Daddy?" Sam asked half asleep. "You all wet."

"Yes, I am," John tried to keep his concern and anger out of his voice. "You had Daddy and Uncle Jim worried. You know better than to leave the house Sammy or go near the pond alone." John scolded quietly. Sam did know, but John knew he couldn't expect his son to look out for himself. Sammy needed constant supervision. Today, they had been given a reprieve and hadn't lost Sam.

"I stay away from water," Sam woke up a little more. "I remember not allowed. You said danger by self. Not go unless Daddy, Uncle Jim or Dee with me cause I not big boy." John smiled softly and nodded. He couldn't speak just then as he fought the lump in his throat and worry flitted across his features. Jim sensed the emotional onslaught. Sam watched his father. "Daddy sad?"

"No, kiddo. I was just worried." Sam reached out both his arms toward his father. "I'm all wet Sammy."

"No care," Sam replied and continued to reach for his father. John took his son from Jim's arms and carried him back to the house.

**Later that Evening, Jim's House 7:00 PM**

Dean pulled up in the Impala and got out. He opened the trunk and grabbed his football gear bag with his sweaty uniform inside and his protective gear. He slung it over his shoulder and walked into the house. Jim looked up from his task of dishes at the sink. They all took turns at dish night throughout the week. "Hey Jim," Dean replied lightly.

"Hey yourself," the religious man surveyed Dean and noticed some scratches on his arms and a bruise forming on his left forearm. "Rough day?" he commented as he indicated the minor injuries.

"Nah, just some grass burn and a good tackle, I'm good." Dean peeked his head into the parlor and noticed the TV was off and the room vacant. "Where are my Dad and Sammy?"

"The study," Jim answered. "Your dad gave Sammy his bath and was reading to him. He fell asleep and your dad is with him." Dean quirked an eyebrow at Jim.

"Why didn't he just put him to bed?"

"I think your dad needs a little more time with your brother that's all." Jim wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell Dean about the pond scare today or not. But, Dean made the decision easy when he noticed an alarmed look cloud Dean's face.

"Why? What's wrong? Is he okay?" Dean's voice filled with fear.

"Your brother got out of the house today and went with Duncan to the pond …" Dean cut Jim off harshly.

"The pond! What the hell?" He barked. "Weren't either of you watching Sammy?"

"We dropped the ball Dean," Jim admitted. "We thought … your dad dove in and …" that was all Jim had to say and that set Dean's feet in motion. His mind filled with horrific images of the lake a year ago. Dean hurried down the hallway toward the study. His father was awake and holding his sleeping brother across his lap and had a light blanket covering his lanky limbs. Sam's head rested against his father's chest. He motioned with the slightest movement of his hand toward Dean indicating to his oldest child to keep his voice down before he spoke. Dean surveyed Sam's sleeping form with intense eyes.

"Is he okay?" he asked quietly. John nodded. "Jim said you dove into the pond."

"We thought we saw something near the reeds … I thought I saw hair," John's voice was gruff and still held the hint of raw emotion. "He fell asleep in the sunflower's if you can believe that," John offered a rueful smile as he cast his eyes toward his sleeping child. "I was on the phone he was there one minute and gone the next … I thought he went to visit with Jim," John offered. "You know how he loves to listen to Jim practice his sermons." Dean nodded. "I'm sorry Dean," John replied. "I screwed up again and your brother could have died." Dean's eyes softened.

"Dad, don't okay. Look kid's get into stuff ya know. Sammy's okay, so everything is alright." Dean assured. "Why don't you go have a cold beer in the kitchen with Jim and I'll put Sammy to bed." John recognized his oldest son's way of letting him off the hook and changing the subject.

"I'll put your brother to bed," John answered. "You on the other hand young man … need a shower, you smell like a sweaty old shoe."

"Wow, I feel the love Dad," Dean grinned.

"Go get cleaned up and I'll warm a dinner plate for you."

"I ate out with the guys after practice, but I could go for some of Jim's cornbread though," Dean's eyes sparkled.

"Okay," John replied. "Hey, Dean use the main bathroom instead of the one in your and Sam's room. I think he'll sleep through the night if he isn't woken up by the shower."

"Sure Dad," Dean smiled. "Sammy could sleep through a nuclear bomb detonation Dad," he chuckled quietly.

"Humor me," John's voice was soft. Dean nodded.

Dean stood under the hot spray of the shower and suddenly he felt his body begin to shake as the ramifications of what could have happened today settled over him. He could have lost his brother, he could have lost Sammy. He didn't even know he was crying until he tasted the salt mingling with the shower water that ran over his mouth. _Everything's okay. Sammy's safe_ he repeated over and over in his head and slowly the shaking in his body subsided and he allowed himself a quick silent prayer to a God he wasn't even sure listened to him, but he had prayed back in Minneapolis secretly and Sam survived, now he bowed his head in the shower as the water cascaded over him like a waterfall and he thanked God for keeping his little brother safe. As Dean turned off the water he smirked, _Uncle Jim would be so proud_, he mused at the idea of Jim finding out he had prayed.

**To Be Continued**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks as always for reading! It's appreciated. Only five more chapters left. Also, keep in mind that I will keep utilizing time leaps throughout the story. Thanks again!**


	6. Adjustments and Acceptance

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks again for the reviews for chapter 5. I'm glad you liked it. This chapter is a little longer, about 19 pages. There is some time advances occurring in this chapter, as well, but as always they are properly noted. I know some readers are put off by big time leaps especially frequent ones, but it's necessary because the scope of the story would take forever to finish if I didn't utilize jumps. Thanks again for reading. I hope you enjoy chapter 6. Happy Reading!

**Chapter Six**

**Adjustments and Acceptance **

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _love is not love which alters when it alteration finds … O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken … love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom …" _excerpt by William Shakespeare, _Sonnet 116_

**Jim's House, Seven Months Later, January 24, 1997**

"Happy birthday son," John cupped the back of his firstborn's neck as he reached over at the small table in the kitchen. "The big 1-8 today," John said smiling.

"Yeah, a regular old man now," Jim quipped as he sat the large pot of chili on a wooden trivet. "I also had Mrs. Stebbins make one of those double chocolate concoctions you love with the butter cream icing you salivate for. Her bakery sure does a business."

"Thanks Jim," Dean beamed. There was a honk from outside and Dean smiled. "Oh man," he popped up. John started to rise and Dean waved him off. "Nah, Dad. I got him." Dean was out the door in a second. Sammy had been attending extended rehab and schooling sessions for the last few months and the rehab pediatric shuttle bus dropped off some of the children who had shuttle arrangements. Sam was stepping off the shuttle when Dean called out. "Hey kiddo." Sam quickened his pace to reach his brother at the same time he was pulling a white and brightly colored piece of paper out of his little knap sack.

"Dean!" He shouted. He tried to run, and stumbled, but managed not to fall. It was evident that Sam would always have some mobility issues with his left side. His left hand was no longer curled inward, but he still kept his left arm closer to his side and tended to rest his hand across his stomach. The rehab was still working on that and when they weren't the Winchester-Murphy household did at home rehab and modified play therapy.

"Easy little man," Dean urged as he drew closer to his little brother. Sam had finally been able to say Dean instead of Dee over two months ago and he also had been rid of his evening diapers for at least three months and would constantly smile and say 'I big boy now' when he knew he had to use the restroom or woke up to a dry bed. Sam met his brother part way in the driveway. Dean was still taller than his little brother, but he knew Sammy would catch up sooner rather than later. He looked at Sam's wide dark-eyes and innocent dimpled smile and it was hard to believe that in a few short months his little brother would be 14.

"Dean! I made for you." Sam dropped his knap sack and proudly held his artwork with both hands. Dean looked at the colorful picture of what looked like a stick person on grass holding a brown blob and his body was covered with a red and yellow finger paint and then he noticed the tiny black number scrawled over the colors … 12 … and Dean knew it was a picture of him during a football game.

"Hey Sammy, this is great kiddo. I love it," Dean ruffled his brother's hair. "I'll keep it for always."

"Promise?" Sam smiled.

"I promise."

"Hap Birth," Sam's speech hurried out of his mouth. Dean smiled patiently.

"Slow down Sammy and try again," Dean encouraged. Sam frowned, but he knew the drill and took a breath and tried again.

"Happy … Birthday," he spoke slowly allowing his words to catch up with his mouth. Dean smiled proudly.

"Good boy Sammy. Great job," Dean replied. "Well, come on I bet Dad and Uncle Jim are dying for some of that hot chili." Sam's smile faded and he pulled urgently on his brother's sweatshirt. "What's wrong Sammy?" Sam looked at his brother with a mixture of fear and tears.

"Dying?" Sam bubbled out through large tears.

"Huh?" Dean frowned. "Who's dying?" He didn't know what his little brother was so upset about.

"You said Daddy and Uncle Jim were dying…" Dean felt two inches tall suddenly. Sam still had a lot of trouble with common figures of speech. He often took them literally.

"No, no, Sammy, Dad and Uncle Jim are fine. I didn't mean they were really dying. You remember when Dad and I were telling you about how something's we say don't really mean what we're saying. They're just sort of like sayings, remember?" Sam quirked his face and he tried to recount what Dean was asking.

"I think so," Sam relented. Dean wasn't so sure.

"Sammy, dad and Uncle Jim are okay. I just meant they really want that chili, okay?" Sam smiled. Dean reached down and with both thumbs pushed gently at the wetness on his little brother's cheeks. "Come on kiddo; let's go show off this painting." Dean dropped an arm across his brother's shoulders as he walked him back to the house. "You have a fun day at rehab and school?"

"Lots of fun," Sam answered excitedly. Sam walked in through the front door with his big brother and made a beeline for the kitchen. Dean just chuckled. "Daddy!" Sam yelled with exuberance.

"Here comes trouble," Jim said to his friend with a smile. John grinned. He turned knowing the routine and waited for his little boy.

"Daddy!" Sam ran into the kitchen and threw his arms around his father's waist and hugged him. John squeezed back.

"Hey there kiddo, how's my boy?" John sat down on a chair and Sam quickly perched himself on his father's lap. "You're gettin' heavy Sammy," John mused.

"Hi Uncle Jim," Sam smiled in Jim's direction.

"Hi Sammy," Jim said lightly. "You have a good day today?"

"Yes," he answered quickly and turned his attention back to his father. "I learn more letters and numbers today daddy and we did picture cards. I did a whole page and Ms. Penny said I did good. See!" Sam pulled out a practice sheet of letters of the alphabet and a sheet with various numbers. John looked at his son's handy work. There were still brief profound moments of sadness John experienced when he looked at Sam's new learning efforts. The 'other' Sam could read and recite Latin, read Shakespeare, Conrad and understand what he'd read even at his young age. He _was_ exceptional, but John was coming to realize that this Sam _is_ exceptional in his own special way, too.

"Good boy Sammy. You did a nice job. I'm proud. What's this?" John saw a pink note card stapled to his son's daily progress report.

"Ms. Penny write note for you," Sam replied. His young son hadn't begun the task of re-learning to read yet, so notes never had to be in envelopes.

"Hey Sammy," Dean chimed in. "Let's go get you cleaned up for dinner. I'm hungry." John held one of Sam's arms to steady him as he got out of his lap. John looked at the note:

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_I wanted to let you know I'm pleased with Sam's progress with the memory exercises we've been doing in class. He's doing well with his writing progress, too. However, I've attached some more practice sheets for him to do at home with you or someone else. He needs the practice. Also, it will help with his fine motor skill issues. He's a pleasure in class and full of energy. The students will be tested next week for their cognitive placement levels and once the results are concluded I will arrange for a parent-teacher conference to discuss Sam's placement. Also, as per the requirements of his rehab facilitator I will forward his scores to the rehab, so they may better adjust his various rehab activities._

_If you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to contact me._

_Sincerely,_

_Penny Renault, MSW, Ph.D., Special Education_

_Minds in Motion Learning Academy _

"Good or bad news," Jim prompted when he saw his old friend finish with the note.

"Depends," John sighed. "They're doing cognitive testing next week."

"You mean they'll place him cognitive level wise? Like they did a few months ago?"

"Yeah, I think. I know they'll be doing an IQ test next month for the students." John ran a hand across his face.

"Why so worried about it?" Jim hedged.

"Just afraid what they'll say about Sammy," John offered bluntly. "It's just after the IQ placement it'll be official ya know," John lamented.

"What will be official?" Jim looked perplexed.

"The label they'll attach to my boy. The state, society, you name it," John's voice was gruff and held a hint of bitterness.

"Look John that boy has made progress we weren't even sure he'd make. Everyday he tries so hard in school. He's learning to the best of his ability Johnny."

"I know," John agreed. "I'm thrilled with his progress. I'm proud of Sammy, but…"

"But, nothing," Jim interjected. "That boy has a good family support system and he's happy and healthy. Something else is bothering you John. What is it?"

"Dean's academic counselor Mr. Armon called me today," he began.

"Oh yeah, I remember you were on the phone this morning when I was leaving for the rectory. Is everything okay? I mean Dean's a good student…" John smiled at the irony of the current situation. His eldest had become a strong student and showed a real passion for math and engineering. He had also excelled in athletics with varsity football.

"Everything's fine … better than fine. It seems he had Dean sit down a few weeks ago during college week with an academic recruiter from MIT for their Materials Engineering program, well I guess they were really impressed with Dean's SAT scores and his grades."

"MIT?" Jim couldn't mask his surprise. "Dean never said anything."

"Yeah, I know. It seems he told Mr. Armon he wanted to go to a local college that he could commute to and from and sat down with MIT just to pacify his counselor, but I guess as part of a college week the students had to practice filling out applications and Dean filled out one for MIT and his counselor submitted it after he interviewed."

"Why wouldn't he want to attend a place like MIT?" John looked at his long time friend with an incredulous look and Jim raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"One word," John offered with a rueful smile. Jim nodded.

"Sammy," Jim answered quietly.

"Yeah," John's voice was rough. "Anyway, his counselor was calling to tell me that the school was in the process of sending out early acceptance letters for the fall following graduation and that Dean should be receiving a priority mail envelope today."

"They're offering him a spot? Man, John he doesn't even finish high school until June."

"Yeah, it came and a letter for me, too. Jim," John looked at his friend. "They've offered him a full ride scholarship including room and board based on his academic credentials and SAT scores." John felt proud, but worried Dean wouldn't accept.

"That's fantastic," Jim answered excitedly.

"What is?" Dean asked as he walked into the kitchen alone. John looked for Dean's ever present little shadow known as Sammy, but didn't see him.

"Where's your brother?"

"Bathroom."

"Alone?"

"Dad," Dean began softly. "Let him have a little space. He can handle taking a leak, and anyway I make him leave the door cracked and I looked in on him before I came down the hall. He was just finishing up." John nodded. "So, what's fantastic Jim?"

"Uh …"

"Went to potty by self," Sam announced loudly and with pride as he came into the kitchen. Jim was never so happy to have been granted a reprieve.

"You wash your hands Sammy," Dean asked. Sam looked up at his brother and smiled. He raised his hands up to his brother.

"Smell good," he offered. "I clean them. Germs go bye-bye." Dean smiled. He had told Sam one day that he had to wash his hands after using the bathroom because germs were little creatures that could make him sick if he didn't kill them with soap and warm water.

"Good boy, Sammy," John answered for his eldest.

**Later that Evening**

Dean's birthday chili dinner and cake were all consumed with laughs and a pleasant evening. "You sorry you didn't go out with your friends tonight? It is a Friday night after all," John suggested as he sat down in an overstuffed chair across from his boys on the couch. Sam had fallen asleep with his head resting on Dean's left thigh. He was in his pajamas already and Dean grinned at the retro design of _Speed Racer_, the kid loved that cartoon, although it aired long before he was even born, but because of reruns Sam had become hooked while watching the Saturday morning cartoons one day.

"Nah, we're getting together tomorrow night and Tyler got us some slots at the indoor paintball place that opened up last weekend." He answered softly as he gently rested a hand on top of Sam's head.

"I should put him down," John replied as he got up.

"I can do it Dad," Dean offered quickly.

"No, I got it and I'd like to talk to you anyway, so stay put." Dean's brow creased with concern.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," John smiled softly.

"You sure? 'Cause if there is something up with Sammy…" John cut Dean off with a simple raise of his right hand and shook his head gently.

"You're brother is fine Dean," John bent and gently lifted Sam's body from the couch. "Oof," he said quietly. "Not going to be able to do this much longer," John handled the gangly limbs and extra weight with ease, but knew that his baby boy would soon be too big to carry to bed. Dean smiled.

"Yeah, he's all legs and arms these days," Dean commented softly. "He's gonna be tall isn't he?" John nodded.

"I think so," he replied as he felt Sam nestle his head against his chest as he settled into his father's arms. "I think he may pass us both up Dean."

"Nah? Really?" Dean lamented. "Now, how's that work? My little brother may be taller than me?" John chuckled softly.

"Maybe?" he offered lightly. "We'll just have to see." John moved off down the hall and returned a few minutes later with some items in his hands and Jim in tow. He was fairly certain he'd need some backup for this conversation and a voice of reason that Dean may listen to if he refused to hear him out.

"Okay, I thought you said nothing was wrong?" Dean's eyes filled with worry.

"Nothing is," John countered casually. Dean eyed both men trying to size up the situation.

"Then why do I feel like I'm about to be double teamed over something. I mean, Jim's here for backup, right? What's going on?" John couldn't help, but laugh and look at his friend.

"He knows us too well," he responded wryly.

"Your dad's right," Jim answered. "And, I guess you're right, too," he looked at Dean.

"Okay, so what's this about?"

"I got a letter and phone call today," John began tentatively. "This came for you today." He placed the still sealed priority mailer in front of Dean on the coffee table. Dean looked at the label: _MIT_. His face paled and then reddened quickly as his anger flared.

"Wait! How the hell? I didn't apply. I talked to those bastards for college week, but I didn't …"

"Your counselor gave them the application you filled out…" John offered. "It's an early admit letter Dean. They sent me a letter," John hurried on. "It's a full ride Dean to _MIT _. It's room and board, tuition … it's all paid for. The only thing left is for you to accept." Dean shook his head and rose from the couch suddenly. John had anticipated Dean's anger.

"No! No way in hell! I told Mr. Armon I wanted to go local, so I could still live at home and commute."

"Dean," John began calmly. "This is _MIT_ and this sort of opportunity only knocks once. You can't let something like that go."

"Your dad's right Dean," Jim offered.

"I'm not leaving Sammy. He needs me around."

"He has Jim and me. Plus, he keeps busy with school, rehab, he's even made some friends at school. He'll be okay."

"No," Dean answered with venom. "I'm not abandoning him. I can't … I won't."

"Dean," Jim jumped into the conversation. "It wouldn't be like that. Look you'd be doing this for Sammy." Dean looked at the preacher as if he'd sprung horns and hooves.

"How's that work?" Dean spat. "Huh? You and Dad want me to abandon Sammy. How does me going away to college do something for my brother." John rubbed his face in frustration. He felt like the battle was being lost. "Huh?" Dean spat again when neither of the older men gave him an answer.

"Because you're going for both of you," John answered softly staring at the area rug under his feet. The room fell silent. John looked up and met his first born son's green-hazel eyes and smiled softly. "You're brother's never gonna go to a place like _MIT_ or _Stanford _Dean. But, you can … _MIT _wants you … a full ride … you go and do the best damn job you can and you do it for yourself and your brother."

"Should be Sammy," Dean choked out. "I don't know how the hell this happened. One day I'm ready to hunt for the rest of my life and then Sammy's hurt and everything changed … I …" John stood up and pulled his son into a hug.

"Look," John pulled back and met his child's gaze. "A year ago the world exploded for us, but then when the dust settled it was different, but we've managed haven't we? Sammy is doing better than the doctor's ever thought he would and he's still learning. He's alive and as horrible as the accident was Dean the outcome of it making me see what I was doing to both my boys lives is something I will always have to be partially grateful for, although the price paid for my learning curve was much too high." Jim sat and listened to his old friend talk to his son. John Winchester had truly changed for the sake of his children. He was the father Jim always knew he could be when vengeance and hunting didn't burn so brightly. He was the father the boys had before the night Mary died.

"Dad, I can't just leave…"

"You're not leaving Dean. You're going to school. There are school breaks and the phone. Hell, if you want to fly home on an occasional weekend when you're not buried in school work you can do that too. You're not leaving … just going away for a while."

"But, Sammy won't understand," Dean's eyes misted up with the thought of Sam's tears and confused voice.

"We'll talk to him," John started. "Hey, he might just surprise us," he commented. "He'll miss you, but he's going to be kept so busy that it's gonna be okay."

"He'll be alone in his room. He might get scared. We share…"

"Dean," John stopped his son. "It isn't your responsibility to solve every hurdle for your brother's wellbeing. I know I put him in your arms and made you take charge way too young, but let me shoulder some of the weight now, okay. Jim and I will figure it out. It will work," John and Jim both nodded at Dean. "Sammy's more resilient than you think. He's not a china plate," John smiled softly. "I may just be figuring that out now, but he's not gonna break kiddo."

"Dad…"

"Dean, I can't force you, but I gotta tell you this moment will not come again and I don't want you way down the road one day thinking back on what could have been … I don't want you resenting your brother."

"I wouldn't … I couldn't …" Dean answered hotly. "He's my little brother."

"I know Dean," John answered calmly. "It's not like I think you will, but the feelings can creep up ya know and anyway do you think if Sammy could understand what this opportunity meant he'd want you to pass it up?" Dean turned anguished eyes to his father. "Dean, son … if the roles had been reversed and you had had the accident on the hunt and let's say the years had gone by and Sammy was accepted to some place … I don't know let's say _Stanford_ with a full-ride would you want him to stay behind and go to a school that really didn't have a program of study he wanted to do, but he was staying in order to be closer to you?"

"No," Dean answered softly.

"Why?"

"Because…"

"Because why," John urged gently.

"Because I'd want him to be happy and it's not like he'd be gone forever," Dean's voice drifted off.

"What else?"

"He's my brother no matter where he is in the world and just because he wasn't around everyday I'd know he was doing something I knew was important to him and I wouldn't want him to pass up a full ride." John and Jim looked at each other and then at Dean. John clasped a warm hand on his son's shoulder.

"So?" He hedged. "You'll accept?" John held his breath. He could see the battle of emotions waging across his child's face.

"Yeah," Dean answered quietly and with a shaky voice. John pulled Dean into a bear hug. Jim walked over when the father and son separated.

"I'm proud of you Dean. This is a good thing," Jim said. "You made the right decision."

**The Next Evening at Roosters Diner, Blue Earth**

"_MIT_?" Tyler smiled. "That's pretty awesome man." Dean sat in a large booth flanked by friends for a belated birthday get together and he looked across the booth at Tyler as he spoke.

"Yeah, Dean-O, you're like Ivy League now dude," Cody Halverson said as he dipped his last fry into a mound of ketchup and popped it into his mouth.

"So, you're gonna accept, right?" Brady Becker wanted confirmation.

"Right?" Brady's twin brother Jordan echoed his brother.

"Yeah," Dean replied his voice dull and his eyes shifting down to his food. Tyler eyed his best friend and had come to know that look and tone.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

"You sure you guys don't need a ride?" Tyler affirmed as everyone but he and Dean got up from their diner seats.

"Nah, we're good, my dad is just down the street at a meeting and we'll catch a lift with him," Cody answered. "I'll take Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb with me, too."

"Hey!" both Brady and Jordan said in irritated unison. Dean and Tyler chuckled.

"Happy birthday man and I guess its only right you kicked our asses at paintball, since it was your birthday and all, you'd think you were some kind of Rambo," Cody joked. Dean just offered a mild grin and nodded. He hadn't been around hunting for a while but it was still apart of him.

Tyler and Dean watched their friends leave. "So," Dean started as he poked at his waffle fries. "You decide on which college you want? I know you were thinkin' California."

"Nah-uh, you don't' get to dodge," Tyler countered. "I know that look…"

"What look?" Dean asked sharply.

"When Brady asked you if you were going to accept the _MIT _early admit … come on you weren't exactly throwing confetti man. I thought you'd be excited," Tyler urged. "What's up?"

"I said I'm going, so what's the big deal," Dean grumbled. "What? If I'm not dancing a freakin' Irish jig or shooting sunbeams out my ass it means I'm not excited.

"Look Mr. Personality," Tyler's tone changed a fraction to match Dean's, if for any other reason to simply give his friend an attitude check … it usually worked and this time was no different. Dean's brow softened and he went back to poking at his waffle fries.

"Sorry," he said softly. Tyler bit into half of his toasted turkey club.

"No problem," came out muffled as he chewed. "So?"

"It's nothing," Dean countered as he finally managed to eat a fry. Tyler took a drink of Pepsi and cleared his voice … it was all too clear. He offered a small understanding smile.

"Okay, let me translate," he smiled. "After all, I think I've become fairly fluent in Dean speak over the last couple years. "In Dean speak … 'it's nothin'' well, for starters always means somethin' and that somethin' usually almost always turns out to be a someone," he smiled warmly. "Goes by the name Sam." Dean looked at his friend and offered a mild grin and Tyler knew he had hit the nail on the head.

"You don't get it Ty," Dean began. "He's gonna be alone. I won't be there. I've been with him everyday of his life ya know and since the accident … it's just I hate leavin' him." Tyler offered a sympathetic look.

"Dean, look I get what you're saying, I do … but, you can't hold on so tight," he encouraged. "And, he's not alone," he added. "He's got your dad and your Uncle Jim and both of them are awesome with him. I'm over at your place at least once every weekend and I see how they are with your little brother and Sam will be okay."

"I know they're great with him, I do," Dean agreed. "It's just he'll have the bedroom all to himself now and …"

"You're gonna miss him" Tyler offered.

"Yeah," Dean answered quietly.

"Hey, when I think about heading off to college and leaving my kid brother behind I know I'm going to miss the little pain in the ass," he smiled to himself. "But, we gotta let go a little Dean."

"It's different for Sammy."

"Really? How?" Tyler spoke evenly knowing full well that Dean hated people implying Sam was anything other than normal and now he was trying to use it as an excuse. Dean stared at his friend for a moment and then let out a long sigh as he realized what he had implied.

"Okay, fine," Dean started. "I'm not sure I'm ready to leave yet, are you happy now?" Tyler chuckled softly.

"Look, man, you're ready to go," he asserted. "Sammy will be fine. It's not like you're leaving and never coming back. He's in good hands at home. Anyway, look at like this," he said with a grin. "You're doing this for him, too." Dean looked at him oddly almost hearing his father's words repeated back to him.

"My dad sort of said the same thing," Dean replied. "Cause Sammy will never go." Tyler shook his head.

"Nah, not that … anyway who says he'll never be able to go, you never know. There are community colleges with special programs, but what I meant was you get a degree from a place like _MIT _and you can write your own ticket and you've said before that eventually way down the road that when your dad and uncle are gone you'll be Sam's sole guardian and with the job you can get you'll be able to provide for him the way he needs to be … school and those extra day camps your dad is always sending him to on the weekends to learn and have some fun with kids his own age." Tyler stopped and looked at his friend. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"So, when did you become all wise sage, anyway?" Tyler threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter.

"Dude, wise and sage are two words that I never thought I'd hear in reference to me, geez that's the joke of the year … you oughta send that one into Letterman."

"Shut up," Dean mused.

"I'm just sayin'," Tyler was still laughing.

"You know you never answered my question about college," Dean switched the subject. "You hear from any yet? I know you submitted early."

"Yeah," Tyler replied. "I was accepted at two … _UCLA_ and _USC_."

"Really? Why didn't you say anything when we were with the guys?"

"It was your night Dean and anyway after the _MIT _full ride bombshell announcement, I didn't think my _UCLA_ news was a big deal," he paused a second. Dean frowned.

"Well, it is," Dean answered. "That's great though, I know you wanted in Callie for college … your parents happy?"

"Yeah, my dad's actually going to fly out there and take a tour with me for orientation."

"Really?" Dean couldn't hide the surprise. Tyler's dad wasn't around a lot and spent a lot of time working. It was his mom that Dean had most interactions with and he thought she was pretty great.

"Yeah, I know," Tyler understood Dean's surprise. "I had to have him say it a couple times because I didn't believe what I was hearing. He's even reserved the tickets for the whole family. I guess he said we're going to turn it into a vacation or something. It shocked the hell out of me…" Tyler shook his head and smiled.

"Well, it's about time your old man stepped up. Good for you man," Dean was happy for Tyler.

"So, you good Winchester?" Tyler studied his friend.

"Yeah, I'm getting there I think … I'm getting there." Tyler nodded.

**Late Summer 1997, Cambridge, Massachusetts, MIT Campus Quad**

"Dean! Daddy!" Sam shouted with excitement. "Look!" He pointed at a large sculpture that had been recently erected by a mathematician/sculptor. It was a large metal three dimensional box that spun on an axis. It glinted silver and bright in the afternoon sun and fascinated Sam.

"Yeah, Sammy I see," Dean answered with a smile as he watched his brother move hurriedly toward the sculpture and the large fountain with dancing water timed to spray with leaping intervals from reservoir to reservoir. "Be careful around the fountain Sammy," Dean's voice was worried.

"He's okay Dean," John commented. "I got an eye on him." Dean offered a bashful smile.

"Yeah, okay," he replied. Both men's attention was brought up sharply by Sam's cries. Both men took off running for Sam who sat on the concrete near the fountain. "Sammy!" Dean and John skidded to a stop and knelt next to their youngest family member.

"I trip and fall … knee all bloody … hurt," Sam's fourteen year old voice was beginning to change in pitch and he was starting to lose that child tone and it made Dean and John both ache. At least when he was younger his disability wasn't so noticeable to the outside world because he was smaller and looked like a child, but now he was growing taller and his voice was moving toward adulthood and leaving its childish tones behind.

"You're okay, Sammy," John took charge of the situation. He pulled out a cotton tissue and an antibacterial handy wipe he ripped out of a paper foil pack. Dean stared wide-eyed at his father as he deftly cleaned and tended to his brother quickly. "See? Almost all better," he comforted as Sam calmed and simply watched his father make his knee better.

"When did you become a mini-van Mom?" Dean joked.

"Huh?"

"You know? They carry wipes and stuff," he joked. "Antibacterial wipes? I didn't even know you carried them." John chuckled as he finished up with his youngest son.

"Well, you know how he gets all sticky when he's around stuff. You remember the Fourth of July festival a few weeks ago? I swear he managed to get more ice cream on his face and hands than he got into his mouth." It was Dean's turn to laugh.

"Yeah, I remember he even got some on an earlobe. I don't even want to know how he managed that one."

**Later that Day**

"Thanks for coming to the campus tour for new students, Dad. I'm glad you and Sammy both came. Man, I can't believe when we leave here I'll be back in three weeks to move into the campus apartments and start college. This is like some kinda Twilight Zone episode, isn't it? I'm gonna wake up soon and it'll be all a dream, right?" John smiled.

"I know it must feel like that son, but it's all happening and you deserve every damn bit of it, okay? I enjoyed seeing your school and where you'll live. Your professors seem nice, but intense." He paused and smiled warmly. "I'm so proud of you," he glanced at Sam who was happily coloring in a book they'd bought in the gift shop of their hotel. "I'm proud of both my boys." Dean looked over at his brother.

"Hey Sammy?"

"Yeah," he replied as he kept coloring.

"Why'd you make the sky purple?" Sam looked up and smiled.

"'Cause I can," he answered simply and went back to coloring. John and Dean both laughed light heartedly.

"Out of the mouths of babes," John commented quietly. "So," John turned to his oldest. "What'd they call you at orientation … Mech … something?" Dean laughed.

"A MechE student, Dad," Dean replied. "It's what they call the students in the Mechanical Engineering program. It's the MechE program."

"I gotcha," John answered. "All that class schedule stuff … your plates gonna be full."

"Yeah, but come on, who wouldn't be stoked about a class in Thermal Dynamics that's awesome." John just smiled and shook his head in amazement. Dean had flourished in ways he never dreamed when they moved to Blue Earth after Sam's accident. It still made his chest ache to think had the accident never happened and he'd always wish it hadn't, but if it hadn't his boys would still be living out of motel rooms and Dean would not be headed into the life he was and Sammy… well, he was just glad his child survived and in his own way he was making as many advances as Dean, but just different ones. He couldn't help, but think about the life Sam might have had, but he tried not to dwell on the could haves, he lived in the here and now.

"Boys," he pulled from his thoughts. "How about we go down to the hotel restaurant and get some grub. You think you want a burger or fish sticks Sammy?"

"Burgie," he chirped with excitement as he dropped the orange crayon on the coloring book.

"Okay, head em' up and move em' out," John ushered his son's from their hotel room. "We have an early morning flight out of here, so let's eat now and get things situated early," John commented.

**Two weeks Later, Jim's Pond**

"So, Sammy," Dean walked with his brother and watched Duncan run around after Sam would toss it away as best he could. His motor abilities had vastly improved from the beginning of his brain injury, but his movements were still delayed a bit and he would still stumble when he tried to run or he simply misplaced an uncoordinated step. He was trying and Dean could see his young brother's brow furrow in concentration trying to make his young body cooperate. "You remember what Dad and I have been talking to you about the last couple weeks or so?"

"You leaving," Sam answered as he looked up to his brother and then back to Duncan who was fast approaching with his trusty stick.

"You know what that means?"

"You go to school with the big yard," Sam replied. Dean smiled. He knew Sam was remembering the quad they had all toured and walked through while visiting campus on their family trip to Cambridge, Massachusetts.

"Yeah, that's right, but I'm only a phone call away, okay. So, if you want to talk to me just have Dad call me, okay?" Sam nodded and tossed the stick. Dean doubted his brother fully comprehended what was going to be happening. "I won't be sleepin' in the room with you, but Dad's just down the hall, okay?" Sam looked at his brother.

"Why no sleep with me?" Dean sat down on a tree stump, so that he was at his brother's eye level.

"Kiddo, I'm going away to school … the one with the big yard … it's too far away for me to come home after school to sleep. It's not like here when I was in high school. I'm going to college now." Dean watched his brother's warm eyes fill with tears as his mind finally began to grasp the gravity of what would be happening … his big brother was leaving. Dean reached out and pulled his little brother to him and hugged him. Sam clung to him like he was a life preserver in a strong current. "Hey, hey," he comforted. "I'm not leavin' forever little man," Dean assured. "I'll be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and whenever I can, I promise."

"You be back for turkey day and Santa?" Dean grinned.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'll be back for turkey day and Santa." His brother had no memories that there was no Santa Claus or Easter bunny for that matter, so the family had indulged him and would continue to for as long as Sam believed.

"Miss you," Sam sniffled and hugged himself to his older brother once more. Dean held him close.

"I'll miss you too Sammy," he replied softly into his brother's soft chestnut hair. "I'll miss you, too."

**Two Months Later, October 31, 1997, Beggar's Night**

John walked with Jim through the small town square of Blue Earth and watched the children go to the different shops for candy treats. The Winchester-Murphy family was well known in the town. No one ever questioned the different last names all they knew is that Jim called the Winchester boys his nephews and that made them and their father family. Sam had gathered with some of the children from his school for trick or treating and John kept a keen eye on his boy as he went about with the other children and a school chaperone. Sam had been acting quiet the last couple days and had felt warm before leaving the house. John had tried to dissuade his child from trick or treating in the crisp October weather, but it was Sam's first trick or treat since he was a small baby when he and Mary had taken the boys out together in October of 1983. Sam was just five months old and Mary had dressed him up as a pumpkin while Dean had been a fireman. Tonight, was against John's better judgment, but it meant a lot to Sam.

"He's having fun," Jim offered lightly, as he watched Sam in his white sheet. Jim didn't miss the irony of the fact Sam had gone as a ghost. He was fourteen to the outside world, but with the mind of a child much younger. "He's been falling behind a little with the kid's. I think he's coming down with something … I hear the flu is going around."

"Yeah, he felt warm before we left …" John didn't get to finish when he heard a frantic yell … _I need some help! Call 911._ Both John and Jim's eyes darted to the voice and it was one of the school chaperone's tending the children. John could see it was his child on the ground and from where John was it looked at though his son was having a seizure. Both John and Jim ran across the street. John dropped to his knees and cradled his son's head loosely as he continued to seize. There was the distinct sound of sirens coming from up the street. "Sammy?" John's voice was agonized. "Its' okay kiddo … Daddy's here." Sam continued to jerk in his father's grasp. The seizure slowed to a stop right as the paramedics jumped from the ambulance and were approaching. John looked down at his unconscious child assuring himself that his son's small chest was rising and falling.

"Sir, what happened?"

"I think it was a seizure. It just stopped … he felt warm before we left the house, I don't…" John's mind was going a thousand miles an hour and Jim recognized the signs that a stressed and scared father had replaced the cool and calm hunter he knew. He stepped up to answer questions as John stroked his child's hair as two other medics prepared him for transport.

"I'm sure it was a seizure of some sort, but he's never had one before. His name is Sam. He's fourteen, he has no known allergies. His Doctor is Dr. Kirk Odden at Blue Earth Medical Center."

"That his pediatrician?" the medic asked to verify.

"No, he's Sam's general physician and is also his brain injury and rehab doctor. Sam's special … there was a near drowning a year ago. He has cognitive delays …" the paramedic raised a hand.

"It's okay, we'll call ahead to alert them, okay?" Jim nodded. "Can you both follow? There isn't enough room back here," the paramedic asked.

"He might get scared if he wakes up on the way," John started. "He doesn't know …"

"It's okay sir, I promise. Margaret here is awesome with kids." John nodded as his eyes fell on his limp son being strapped down and an oxygen mask was placed over his too small face. He watched them place electrodes to his small chest to monitor his heart and saw a woman shining a penlight in his eyes.

"We better go," there was something urgent in the female medic's voice.

"What is it? What's wrong?" John barked in a panic.

"His pupil's aren't responding like I want, they're a little sluggish … could be because of the seizure, but I just want to err on the side of caution for your son's sake." John heard them call ahead on the radio and heard things like _respirations are suppressed, on oxygen, pupil response is slow, possible seizure, no known allergies, fourteen year-old with previous brain injury … his Doctor is on staff, Dr. Kirk Odden. ETA six minutes_.

John watched the ambulance pull away and he and Jim ran for Jim's car. His heart was hammering in his chest. "I knew I should have taken him to the doctor two days ago, he hasn't been himself" John hissed out loud.

"Kid's get sick Johnny, you'll see Sammy will be fine."

"Sammy's special Jim you know that," John answered hotly. "I should have…"

"Just relax John," Jim tried to ease his friend's nerves and self blame.

"He had a fucking seizure," John spat. Jim knew John was on the razor's edge if he was dropping "F" bombs.

**The Emergency Room, Two Hours Later**

John and Jim still had no word about Sam and hadn't laid eyes on the boy since he was closed into the ambulance. "Where the hell is the doctor?" John ground out.

"He'll be out when he can John. Look, Kirk's in there, and you know Sam's just not another random patient to him. He's in good hands." John rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"He's just a little boy Jim … I … I can't …" Jim put a comforting hand on his friend's forearm.

"John," his voice calm and soothing, "you're not going to lose him." He knew his old friend too well. But, in essence his friend's fears were his also. Jim Murphy couldn't imagine a world without Sammy. The ER doors swung open and John and Jim both met eyes with Dr. Kirk Odden."

"How's Sammy?" John asked quickly his face a mask of worry and fear.

"Let's sit," the doctor's voice was tight. Kirk's face wasn't comforting. John felt a heavy coldness settle inside his chest.

**To Be Continued**

**I hope you're still enjoying the story, so far. Thanks for reading! **


	7. Cleave

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thanks for all of the reviews for chapter 6. I appreciate them all. This chapter will also use time advances. I hope you're still enjoying the story :-)

**Chapter Seven**

**Cleave**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _Don't hang on, nothing last's forever, but the earth and sky, it slips away, all your money won't another minute buy. Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind." _Excerpt from Kansas, _Dust in the Wind_

**The Emergency Room**

"How's Sammy?" John asked quickly his face a mask of worry and fear.

"Let's sit," the doctor's voice was tight. Kirk's face wasn't comforting. John felt a heavy coldness settle inside his chest.

"Please, just tell me how my son is," John asked urgently as he took a seat, his full attention on the doctor.

"John," Kirk Odden began tentatively as his eyes shifted from Sam's father to his friend Jim Murphy. "Has Sam complained of headaches or a stiff neck?"

"No, but he isn't very good about saying he doesn't feel well. He might say his stomach hurts or something, but it's just he doesn't really have the vocabulary to tell us when something is wrong. I knew he was a little warm before we left the house…"

"Has he been acting like himself?" The doctor knew that it was true Sam simply didn't have the communication skills or vocabulary to fully describe how he feels. In a lot of ways trying to diagnose a child with cognitive problems and brain injury could be like trying to decipher a baby's tears … is it a wet diaper or is there something causing pain?

"No, the last couple days he's seemed a little off, but he just kept plugging along. I thought it might just be a cold, but then today I thought maybe it was flu coming on or something, please," he begged. "You know what's wrong with my boy … what is it?"

"Kirk what is it?" Jim urged.

"We had to do a spinal tap and it was conclusive," he started. "I'm sorry, but the test came back positive for bacterial meningitis."

"Meningitis?" John blurted. "But, that's treatable, right? Bed rest, fluids … but, he had a seizure, was it because of the fever?"

"John," the doctor's voice was soft and John's fear flared once again. "Had it been viral meningitis then yes that is very treatable with very minimal problems, but bacterial is much more uncommon and can be deadly if not caught in time. Unfortunately, seizures are a sign of bacterial meningitis in its advanced stages. We're treating it aggressively, but Sam is very sick. I suspect he started coming down with it a few days ago, but only started getting the major effects over the last couple days. Please, don't blame yourself, any parent might have missed the early stages and with Sam's disabilities and limited vocabulary he just can't communicate as effectively as he did before the accident."

"What could happen? He won't die, will he? I mean he's fourteen and strong, he'll be okay, right?" John was grasping for whatever hope the doctor was willing to throw his direction.

"John, there are numerous problems that can result from bacterial meningitis for survivors … they can have long term complications like hearing loss, paralysis, develop seizure disorders, coma, brain damage and yes, even death." John felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Brain damage? But, Sammy's…"

"I know your worries John I do, but we're doing everything we can for him right now."

"But, what could happen … I mean he's already …" John couldn't bring himself to say brain damaged when talking about his little boy.

"If Sam were to become further impaired then he could end of having profound retardation, but we haven't crossed that bridge and we won't know the long range outcome until we can get Sam past this part of the infection. Now, I've already called his school and advised them that everyone that has been in contact with Sam needs to take preventative medications, and the staff, you, and Jim will most certainly need to take the seven day course of meds."

"I want to see him," John stood up. "I want to see my son."

"We're settling him in the PICU and once he's settled I'll personally take you up to him."

"Is he awake?" John saw the doctor's eyes darken.

"No, he's unresponsive right now and we're trying to get his fever under control with a cooling blanket and fever reducers."

"Unresponsive," Jim spoke up. "Kirk just tell us."

"Sam's neuro exam is conclusive he's fallen into a medium level coma, but it isn't uncommon with advanced bacterial meningitis."

"Coma …" John's voice shook.

"John, it's not deep and that's good …"

"But, you said he's unresponsive …"

"His pupil response to light is sluggish, and he has shown slight reaction to deep pain stimuli, but admittedly it is very slight."

"Is he … is he…" John fought to say the words. "Is he breathing on his own?" He finally forced the words past his dry throat. The doctor shook his head slightly.

"He is, but he doesn't have a responsive gag reflex right now, so to insure his airway stays protected and that he doesn't aspirate into his lungs I've had him intubated for precaution, but he is breathing on his own and triggering the vent when he breathes, so that's very good." John still didn't feel comforted.

**One Hour Later – PICU **

"I should call Dean," he whispered to Jim who sat next to him as they both watched Sam lie unmoving under wires and machines. "But, he's in the middle of mid terms right now before the holiday break in a couple weeks for the fall Thanksgiving break."

"He'll never forgive you John if you keep this a secret. I'm sure Sammy will be fine, but…" John turned his eyes toward his friends and he knew what unspoken words he was saying … _Dean would never forgive you if he didn't get to see Sammy and say goodbye if he doesn't survive this _… John nodded.

"Will you stay with Sammy? I'm going to go call him," he glanced at his watch and sighed. "Dammit, it's after ten there … the phone ringing this late is going to worry him anyway."

"John it has to be done." Jim offered quietly. John nodded and left.

**MIT Campus Apartments, Cambridge, Massachusetts**

Dean was closing the refrigerator with a satisfied sigh. He was glad he had managed to get his mid-terms all complete and even took one early today, so he could have a long weekend off and maybe try a surprise visit home. He missed his family and hadn't seen them since late August. The phone rang and drew Dean's immediate attention. He knew Sammy was trick or treating tonight and hoped it was his dad calling him with hilarious tales of Sam's first real beggar's night. He looked at the caller ID and frowned: Pay phone … 945-555-4210 … it was a Blue Earth prefix, but a pay phone? He snatched it up.

"Hello? Dad?"

"Yeah, son it's me," John tried to sound up beat. "How are you? How's exams?"

"I finished early … why you calling me from a pay phone?"

"Huh?"

"Caller ID, Dad," Dean offered.

"Oh yeah," John answered absently.

"Dad? What is it?"

"Dean," he began and stopped. "Sammy got sick while trick or treating…"

"Sick? You mean the crazy kid ate all his stash and now he's an unhappy camper with a chocolate overdose?" Dean mused as he began to relax a slight fraction, but there was something in his father's voice that was still sending up red flags.

"No, he had a seizure," John said softly. Dean gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"A seizure! Dad, he's okay, right? I mean …"

"Dean, Dr. Odden did a spinal tap on Sammy … he's got bacterial meningitis."

"I'm comin' home," Dean shouted.

"Dean …"

"Fuck it Dad!" Dean shouted. "I'm coming home. Where is Sammy now?"

"The PICU," John answered evenly unaffected by his eldest son's outburst.

"How bad?"

"Bad," John's voice shook. Dean felt hot tears sting in his eyes as they welled up.

"Could he … could he die?" Dean's voice trembled. There was a long silence on the phone. "Dad?" Dean's voice was desperate.

"Yes," the answer was almost a whisper as if John himself wanted to avoid the dark truth that they could still lose Sammy despite everything they had overcome in the previous year following the drowning.

"I'm coming home."

"I'll have Jim get you at the airport just call when you have your flight schedule." John proceeded to give Dean the number to PICU, so he could in fact call in to his father at the nurse's desk. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You be careful driving to the airport I can't handle worrying about both of my boys."

"Okay, Dad."

**Three Days Later, PICU**

Dean sat at his brother's side as he had been since his plane landed two days ago. His father and Jim were having a conference with Dr. Odden. Sam had slipped into a deeper coma and had become completely unresponsive. The doctor had been trying to softly prepare the family for the possibility that Sam may not survive. The IV meds weren't taking effect as soon as the doctor would like. His blood pressure was low and they had trouble keeping it up. The latest MRI had shown that the brain swelling from the meningitis hadn't abated and even seemed slightly more pronounced. Sam had quit triggering the ventilator on his own a day and a half ago, and that had been another dark cloud that settled over the Winchester family. It had been easier looking at the tube in Sam's mouth when they knew he was breathing on his own, and that it was just there to make sure his airway was okay, but now the reality that the machine was accounting for 100 percent of the breaths that the boy was taking ate at the souls of John, Dean and Jim.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke softly as he reached up and pushed back his little brother's bangs. "Come on kiddo," Dean urged fighting to keep his voice strong. "You know Duncan doesn't like to play with anyone else as much as he does you," he encouraged. "He's waiting for you to throw sticks for him." Sam remained unmoving and the only movement was the mechanical rise and fall of his young chest. "You're missin' a lot of school Sammy," Dean prompted. "You know you love school." Dean watched his brother's face for any movement, but there was none. "Hey, Sammy," Dean offered excitedly. "Dad told me you can tie your shoes now. I'm proud of you kiddo. He says you've been working on buttons now too, but they're giving you a little trouble," Dean smiled softly at his little brother. "I had trouble too," he provided. "Trying to shove that button through a little hole isn't easy. You'll get it buddy," he continued to stroke his brother's hair and forehead in repetitive motions.

"I love you kiddo, come on," Dean felt his lower lip tremble as his emotions began to leak out of him against his will. He tried to steel himself. "Sammy, please…" Dean's thoughts were broken violently by the sudden shrill sound of his little brother's heart monitor. Dean's frantic eyes jerked toward the monitor and saw that the thin blue line no longer had sharp arching waves indicating his sibling's heart was beating. "Sam! Sammy!" Dean was quickly ushered out of Sam's PICU room as the staff and Code team swarmed into the room with a crash cart and closed the door. Dean stood outside his brother's room watching through the window's partially open blinds. He watched them pull his brother's gown down exposing his chest. He saw them roll his brother on his side as they slid a CPR board under him and began compressions while meds were being injected. He saw them disconnect him from the ventilator and attach his breathing tube to a bag a nurse was squeezing. He couldn't hear what was being said through the glass and closed door, but he could see the doctor speaking urgently and staff following orders.

**Meanwhile, Family Conference Rooms, PICU**

"The new meds are going to work, right?" John leaned forward on the table. "I mean, you said the brain swelling is getting worse not better."

"John, I've only just switched Sam's IV regimen yesterday. The Ampicillin and Chloramphenical weren't working, so I've started him on Claforan. The drug needs a chance to get a therapeutic level in his blood and I'm hoping we start to see a change in a day or two."

"You hope?" John hissed. "My son's brain can't take anymore injury and you know it. That kid has fought back from so much … and you've already started paving the way to tell me I'm gonna lose my child, I'm not stupid," he spat.

"John," Jim placed a calming hand on his friend. "You know that Kirk is doing everything he can for Sammy. Give the medication time."

"Sam doesn't have time Jim," John lamented. "The infection is causing swelling, his blood pressure is low and dammit he isn't even breathing on his own anymore."

"John I promise I am doing every thing I can think of and if the new IV meds don't work I have more options to try. I'm not giving up on your son ..." The doctor's sentence was cut off by his pager beeping. He looked down at the text message: CODE BLUE, PICU RM. 2B. He stood up abruptly and his facial expression was all John or Jim needed.

"Sammy?" John's face paled as he said his son's name. Dr. Odden nodded grimly.

"He's arrested they are coding him right now. I have to go." John and Jim rushed from the room and followed the doctor.

**PICU, Outside Sam's Room**

Dean's hands were both planted on the glass as he watched them try to resuscitate his little brother. He watched them shock his sibling and his young chest arch upward as the electricity flowed through his still heart. They had started compressions again just as Dr. Odden flew by Dean and through the door. Dean looked up and his anguished eyes fell on his father's face. John was looking through the slightly open blinds; his face couldn't mask the agony and fear as he watched his child's chest compressed repeatedly. Jim stood silent and stoic next to John and Dean as he said a silent prayer for Sam's young heart to beat again. John and Dean watched Dr. Odden bark orders as he took over directing Sam's resuscitation. They watched more drugs pushed into various IV's and CPR continued on.

Dr. Odden looked at the heart monitor and continued compressions. "Dad?" Dean's voice shook as his eyes never left Sam. "Why aren't they shocking Sammy's heart anymore?"

John said nothing. He could only watch. Jim placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Because they can't son," he said softly.

"Why? They were before you and Dad got here. They can make his heart beat again … they have to shock him again."

"Dean," Jim began tentatively. He could see that John was fixated on his child behind the glass. He also knew that John was well aware why they weren't using the defibrillator on Sam. "Dean," Jim began again. "They can only shock Sammy's heart if he has a certain kind of rhythm." Dean turned tear filled eyes toward Jim.

"What's that mean?" He asked desperately. Jim just looked at Dean, so Dean turned panicked eyes to his father. He needed John to make it all better. "Dad, what does Jim mean? What's that mean?" The desperation in his eldest son's voice broke through John's agony and he turned to look at him.

"It means Sammy's heart isn't beating at all Dean," he answered gruffly. "It means there is nothing to shock." Dean turned back to watching the medical staff working on his brother. His mind refused to accept what his father's words implied.

**Inside Sam's Room**

"Dammit, come on!" The doctor barked. "When was his last epi?"

"Five minutes ago," an intern answered.

"How long has he been down?"

"Twenty-two minutes." Dr. Odden let out an angry sigh as he continued to do compressions. "Okay, holding compressions." All eyes shifted to Sam's heart monitor and the thin blue line was unwavering and the single word above the blue line was mocking them all as it continued to display 'asystole'.

"Okay, any ideas people?" the doctor spoke urgently as he continued with compressions.

"He's been down for a while," the intern suggested. "He's been out of V-fib for over eighteen minutes Dr. Odden. The kid's flat line."

"Sonofabitch, this isn't happening," Kirk Odden hissed. "Push 2 cc's of Atropine. Take over compressions," he looked pointedly at a nurse and she did so.

"Atropine in," another nurse spoke out. The doctor watched the clock.

"Okay, hold compressions." He called out and the nurse stopped compressing, but left her hands in place to begin again when instructed.

"No change," the intern called out. "Still asystole."

"Continue CPR," he barked and the nurse started up again. "Push another high dose Epi and Lidocaine bolus."

"Dr. Odden," the intern spoke hesitantly. "It's been thirty-six minutes now. He's gone." Kirk Odden looked up and could see his patient's family outside watching through the blinds. He dropped his eyes unwilling to meet their eyes.

"I'm not ready to call it yet," he hissed. "And, would someone, please go close the blinds the family is watching." John watched in horror as a nurse walked over to the window and offered a sympathetic look and slowly closed the blinds. The last thing John, Dean and Jim saw was the doctor taking over compressions once again from the nurse before the blinds closed. John stepped back and walked over to a wall facing Sam's room. His knees felt weak.

"Why'd they do that?" Dean barked.

"Dean, it's protocol," Jim assured. "I'm surprised they let us watch as long as we have." He put a comforting hand on Dean's arm and the youth jerked away angry.

"No! Something's wrong … they don't want us to see," Dean felt on the verge of hysterics.

"Dean," John's voice was suddenly even and strong. "Come here," he urged and Dean walked to his father only to be pulled into a hug and John held his son tightly. "I'm here kiddo." He comforted and Dean wrapped his fingers tightly into his father's flannel shirt.

"Anything?" Dr. Odden stopped compressions.

"No, he's still asystole. He's maxed out on Epi and Lidocaine. You want me to push another Atropine?" Dr. Odden shook his head sadly and stepped back as he nodded at a nurse and she stepped up to continue compressions.

"Down time?"

"Fifty-two minutes," the intern answered.

"Stop CPR," Kirk Odden placed his stethoscope on Sam's chest and listened. There was no heart beat. He placed his fingers on Sam's carotid artery and felt no pulse. He lifted one of Sam's eyelids and shined a penlight back and forth across the pupil. He stepped back. "Continue compressions," he instructed. "Push another atropine."

"What?" the intern couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was looking at a dead kid and he was pretty sure the rest of the staff felt the same way, too. "Dr. Odden, how long are you going to keep flogging this poor kid. He's gone. He's been down for almost an hour." Dr. Odden looked sharply at the young intern.

"Then you check his goddamn pupils!" he shouted at the intern. "Push the damn atropine," he barked to a nurse whose hand hovered with the syringe ready to deliver the cardiac stimulating drug to Sam's IV port. The intern bent over Sam and shined a penlight into each eye and watched the sluggish response. They weren't fixed and dilated as he expected, but were still reacting to light albeit sluggish. "He's not brain dead, so as long as he's fighting, we fight, got it!" the doctor commanded.

"It's only because the compressions and ventilation are enough to profuse his brain, but he's gone." The intern countered.

"I'm running this code and I'm not prepared to call it yet." Dr. Odden's tone was controlled and dangerous. Things continued at a fever pitch for a while as they worked on Sam. "Down time?"

"Sixty-seven minutes," the intern answered.

Dr. Odden grunted in frustration. "Stop compressions." They had been able to deliver another Epi bolus finally, but to no avail it didn't produce a cardiac response from Sam. They all looked at the monitor, and the flat blue line continued to scream to them and 'asystole' continued to blink.

"Well?" the intern unwilling to over step his bounds anymore than he already had earlier.

"I'll call it," Dr. Odden's voice was both exhausted and sad. "Time of…"

"Wait, holy crap!" the intern snapped. "Is that PEA on the monitor?" Dr. Odden's eyes darted to the monitor.

"Continue compressions. Charge the paddles to 220 jules. Hyperventilate him! Come on Sam," he encouraged. "Come on kiddo." The doctor placed the paddles against his patient's chest. "Clear!" The shock caused Sam to arch upward and he fell limply back to his bed. His head lulled to the side for a moment before a nurse turned it once again aligning his air way and continued to ventilate him with a bright orange ambu bag.

"No response."

"Again at 220, clear!"

"He's in a strong V-fib," the intern barked.

"Inject 2cc's of atropine." The doctor commanded as he delivered vigorous compressions to Sam's chest trying desperately to circulate the cardiac drug. "Charge the paddles to 240. Come on Sam," Dr. Odden begged. "240, clear!"

**Ten Minutes Later**

Staff began to file out of the room and John, Dean and Jim were all trying to scan their faces for some hint of what news was coming their way. Had they lost their Sammy? Finally, Dr. Odden emerged from Sam's room. He looked tired. "We got him back," were his first words to Sam's family. "It was close, too close, but he's stabilized for now. He was down a long time."

"You were in there for over an hour. What happened?" John asked as he stood flanked by Dean and Jim on each of his shoulders.

"There was a blood pressure drop that I'm guessing precipitated a cardiac arrhythmia that induced the cardiac arrest …"

"You said Sam was down for a long time … how long? What about his brain?" John felt half sick at the possible implications of his little boy's heart having been stopped for such a long time.

"The CPR and ventilating appears to have provided sufficient profusion to Sam's brain. His pupil's remain sluggish and slightly dilated, however they are responding to light and that's a good thing."

"But," John paused. "What about brain activity?" He had been through this before with the lake drowning. John knew that pupil's reacting to light, although a good sign didn't mean his son would be okay, not by a long shot.

"I've ordered an EEG for later today," Dr. Odden commented.

"Dad, Sammy's going to pull through this you'll see," Dean replied. He turned his attention back to the doctor. "I want to see my brother?" Dean's request sounded more like a demand. The doctor understood.

"You can go in," he encouraged. Dean didn't need to be told twice and walked the few feet to his brother's room quickly leaving his father and Jim with the doctor.

Dean entered the room tentatively there was a nurse making adjustments to his little brother's IV's and checking his ventilator settings. She smiled. "It's okay to come in. I'm almost finished." Dean offered her a thin smile and stepped up to his little brother's bedside.

"Is it okay to touch him?" Dean's voice sounded frightened even to his own ears.

"Of course, sweetie," she replied. "Just watch his IV lines … talk to him," she urged. "I believe it helps."

"You think he hears me?"

"Yes, on some level I think he does." Dean smiled again and the nurse charted a few notes in Sam's bedside chart and excused herself leaving Dean alone with his brother.

"Hey Sammy," he reached out a stroked his brother's left cheek avoiding the mouth piece holding the ventilator tubing in place. His sibling's skin felt cold to the touch and he was deathly pale. There was just a hint of redness beginning to creep back into Sam's face as the fever that had abated when his heart stopped was beginning to lay claim to his young body again. "You know," he began with a shaking voice. "You really scared me little man … Sammy you gotta fight this, okay. Dad and me … we need you here. Look you survived a freakin' icy lake and you came back to us then … you can't let a little rinky-dinky infection take you down … you're a Winchester dammit. You hear me?" Dean tried to be forceful, but the tears silently cascading down his cheeks betrayed his stoic nature. "I love you Sammy," his voice was soft. "Please, kiddo …" he leaned over and kissed the top of his brother's head relishing the vanilla scent that was his Sammy.

**Meanwhile, Outside Sam's Room**

"When are we going to know if the new meds are working on my son?"

"Today, is the first full day on the new IV meds, so by tomorrow we should be reaching a therapeutic level and we'll see how he's doing. I want to keep him on the new drug for at least three to four days before we try something else, unless he continues to get worse and I may switch sooner." John nodded tightly.

"I'll be with my son," he started to turn to go and looked back at the doctor. "Thank you for not giving up on Sammy." The doctor smiled softly, but before he could reply John turned and walked into his child's room.

"Kirk," Jim spoke softly. "I can't thank you enough. It's just," Jim stopped as he felt his emotions choke up into his throat. Kirk Odden reached up a hand and clasped his friend's shoulder.

"Easy Jim," he comforted. "That kid in there is one hell of a fighter. I was just about to call it when he decided to give us a rhythm we could work with. He's not giving up, he's fighting and so will we, okay?"

"Thanks," Jim replied.

**Meanwhile, Sam's PICU Room **

John walked in a looked at both his children. One stood watch over the other just as he always had since Sammy came into this world. He gently dropped an arm across Dean's shoulder as he stood as his brother's bedside. "You okay, son?" John asked softly.

"Don't worry about me Dad. It's Sammy we should worry about," Dean replied without removing his concentrated gaze from his little brother's silent and still features.

"Hey, you're both my children and I worry about both my boys," John answered gently. "I am worried about Sammy, but I'm also worried about his big brother. It's a part of the job description you know…" Dean looked at his father and smiled warmly.

"Yeah, you're right, I guess," Dean relented. John smiled.

"Well, kiddo just you wait … one day you'll be a father and you'll understand." Dean made a face.

"Kids? Me?"

"Of course, but don't make me a grandpa just yet," he said teasingly.

"Yeah, no worries there," he countered. "I've been so busy with classes that I hardly have any time to date. I'm not sure I'm cut out for it you know?"

"Dean, you'll make a wonderful father someday." Dean looked from his father to his brother and John could see a bit of sadness in his firstborn's eyes. "What is it son?" Dean turned bright eyes toward his father.

"Sammy would have been better," he choked. "At being a dad, you know…" John felt his throat tighten. He tried more often lately to not remind himself of the certain milestones in life his baby boy would never have with his disabilities from the drowning, although nothing is impossible … it seemed highly unlikely that his son would ever reach the cognitive levels to run his own household without a lot of help let alone marry and have children. John didn't like to think anything was impossible for his child, but he was also a realist when it came to what Sam's likely limitations would probably be in the long run. John simply smiled at his oldest child and squeezed his arm that still remained across his son's shoulders.

"I think Sammy would have made a wonderful father Dean, but you can give him the opportunity to be a wonderful Uncle, if and when you're ready. I truly believe you'll do 1,000 times better than I ever did Dean. I'm already so proud of both my boys."

"You're a good Dad," Dean answered softly as he met his father's eyes.

"I've made a lot of mistakes with both you boys," John paused as he reached down and stroked Sam's bangs. "I'm sorry for those mistakes Dean."

"Stop Dad," Dean raised his voice just a bit above a whisper in his brother's hospital room. "Look at how you've been with Sammy since the accident. You've been great and with my college … Dad you're doing a good job." John and Dean fell into a moment of silence and then both turned their attention back to Sam.

**Three Days Later, PICU**

"The fever broke John and the EEG still remains positive for higher brain activity. The latest MRI was conclusive the brain swelling has diminished and now it's up to Sam."

"The infection," John started. "What about the meningitis?"

"It's under control John and I suspect another few days of IV meds and his next spinal tap should come back negative."

"But, the coma," John's voice held a hint of fatigue and stress. "He hasn't opened his eyes."

"No, not yet, but he has begun to trigger the vent more often each hour," the doctor assured. "And, he is reacting to deep pain stimuli. I'm confident he'll start moving toward consciousness soon."

**Later that Afternoon, Sam's Room**

Dean looked up as his father walked in. "Did you call Jim?"

"Yeah, I told him the latest reports on Sammy. He wished he could be here, but the church had that seminar planned and he's the keynote speaker, so…" John eyes trailed to his youngest child as he approached the bed. "Has he moved or anything?"

"A couple fingers about twenty minutes ago, but the nurse said it was probably just a muscle spasm."

"What do you think?" John said with a warm knowing smile. Dean returned the smile as he reached out for his little brother's hand.

"I think Sammy moved his fingers," he paused for a second. "No, scratch that … I know he moved his fingers. I don't care what the nurse thinks.

"That's my boy," John answered with pride directed at his eldest. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You talk to your counselor at _MIT_?"

"Dad," Dean complained.

"I'm serious Dean. I know we're both worrying about Sammy, but you also have to keep your ducks in a row," the older man admonished.

"I talked to him earlier. They know I have a family emergency, so they understand. I don't know they talked about arranging some kind of video conferencing for me at the high school until the semester ends, so I don't miss lectures and I can submit my work by fax."

"By fax?"

"Yeah, something about wanting to see calculations done by hand," Dean replied. "You know you can never be too careful with the calculations for a Thermal Dynamics class." John just shook his head. He wasn't a stupid man and had always been good with calculations, but his son's books were even beyond him. "I got it under control. They're on fall break right now anyway, and even when they go back there's only three weeks of class left and then we're out until after the first of the year."

"How'd you do on mid terms? Are the grades out yet?"

"Not officially, but they told me mine," Dean started.

"And?"

"Three A's and a B+" Dean said the last part with a bit of venom.

"What? You have a problem with a B+?"

"Yeah, I was robbed," Dean complained. John laughed. "What?"

"Nothing," John raised a placating hand with a glint in his eye. Dean scrunched his eyebrows at his father.

"Well, I was…" Dean retorted.

**Two Months Later, Christmas Day, Jim's House **

"Daddy! I gg…gg…got Nnn…Nintendo," Sam stammered in excitement as he sat by the Christmas tree surrounded by wrapping paper and bows scattered everywhere. His speech had suffered some mild setbacks after the meningitis and coma while escaping other complications that could have happened, and his family was thankful because it could have been much worse. He still had a few more presents to open. Dean, Jim and John sat patiently opening their own gifts, but seemed more interested in Sam's excitement.

"Nintendo, huh? From who?" He played dumb. Sam looked at the tag and frowned.

"No rrr…read Daddy," Sam lifted the tag toward his father. "You read." John took the tag knowing full well it was his handwriting. He had been handing Sam his presents most of the morning and saying if it was from him, Dean or Jim, but it was the gifts from Santa that had Sam giddy.

"Hmm," he said as he looked at it. "It says here, _from Santa_." Sam smiled.

"Santa give me lot. He come all the way from Nnn…north Pole with Rrr…Rudolph." John smiled. Sam had been parked in front of the TV over the last couple days watching Christmas specials and he was still talking about _Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer_.

"That's right Sammy. Now, you know Santa only gave you this video game because Robert your new therapist in PT said it would be good for your reflexes." John wanted to make sure his child wasn't going to park himself in front of a television playing video games, although he'd been careful to make sure he bought mostly educational ones that he could learn from while getting practice with his fine motor skills and reflexes.

"Robbie fun," Sam chirped. "Dean," Sam looked at his brother as he opened a small box with a new watch.

"Yeah, Sammy," he said looking up from his new watch.

"What Santa get you?"

"I'm too old for Santa Sammy," Dean answered honestly. "Um, Santa just delivers to little kids. I'm all grown." Sam frowned. He reached over and grabbed a new green stuffed frog that had also been a gift from Santa he stood up and made his way over to his big brother and held it out to him. Dean quirked an eyebrow at his sibling, "What's this for Sammy, this is your present."

"Fff…from Santa, but I give you … I share … his name Jumper," he beamed at his big brother. Dean smiled.

"Jumper, huh? Why'd you name him that?" Sam hadn't handed off the toy yet, as he answered.

"Cause frogs jump, silly," he giggled. Dean felt his heart swell for his little brother. He looked at his sibling and clearly saw the fourteen year old young man he was, but he knew his brother was merely still a child in his mind.

"Thanks kiddo, but I think Jumper will be a lot happier with you here at Uncle Jim's, maybe you can keep him for me while I'm at school. I think he'd like that." Sam studied his brother as if he were trying to work out the logic. He giggled suddenly and held the stuffed toy close to himself.

"Okay, Dee, I keep him safe for you," Dean smiled. He hadn't heard Sam fall back on his name as Dee for a while. It was sort of nice now because he knew it was just his brother's nickname for him now rather than it being the only way he could say his name. "Dean?" Sam looked serious.

"Yes?" Dean wasn't sure what his brother was going to ask.

"Why Santa no give presents to big boys? That mean when I big boy he not come anymore?" He looked distraught as his eyes shifted to every family member in the room hoping for an answer. John leaned forward and put a hand on Dean's knee.

"I got this one son," John indicated to Dean and his eldest smiled in relief.

"Sammy," John began. "Santa will keep bringing presents to you every Christmas for as long as you want him to."

"But, Dean said no big boys…"

"Well, that's true," John began tentatively. "But, big boys decide when they want Santa to stop coming."

"How they do that?"

"When they stop writing letters to Santa or they stop visiting, you know like you did at your school's Christmas festival… when you stop that sort of thing Santa knows you're a big boy then and doesn't come anymore, but you'll still get presents from us."

"I like Santa," Sam hurried on. "I www…want him to still come." John chuckled.

"He will Sammy until you don't want him to anymore."

"But, then I never be a big boy…" Sam's young eyes were wide. "I want to be big boy."

"Well, when you're a big boy you'll be ready to let Santa go Sammy and he can visit more little children. There's no hurry," John added when he could see how torn his baby boy was at the prospect of no Santa."

"What about…" Sam's mind was working and John and the other could see his wheels turning. "What about thh…the Easter bunny?"

"Boy, nothing gets by you does it kiddo," John was proud of his little boys progress. There were moments when John allowed himself to believe that Sam's cognitive abilities were improving and at times it did seem like that, but there was always some dose of reality that curbed the hopefulness. Sam was reasoning and thinking, but he was also a fourteen year old who was reasoning about still wanting Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny in his life. It was a dichotomy that the entire Murphy-Winchester family had trouble with at times. "Same thing," John answered. "When you're a big boy you won't want the Easter bunny around anymore and he'll deliver chocolate to other kid's."

"Okay," Sam answered suddenly as he turned to go back to his spot by the tree and finish opening his gifts.

"Okay?" Dean spoke up now just as Sam sat down on the floor.

"It okay," Sam started. "I not big boy yet," he smiled wide and went back to his gifts. Dean looked at his father and smiled. John could see within his son's smile was a mixture of deep love and affection for his sibling, but also sadness at the Sammy that was gone forever, he knew how his child felt. He reached out a dropped a comforting hand on his firstborn's shoulder and squeezed. Dean smiled and nodded in acknowledgment at his Dad. Father and Son were in silent understanding. Jim sat and watched silently. He had been happy that John and the boys had attended Christmas service this morning at church and he was equally happy to be sitting around the tree in the late morning watching his _family_ open their gifts.

**Two Hours Later **

Dean walked into the kitchen. "You need any help?" He asked as he surveyed the kitchen as his father and Jim went about cooking the Christmas meal.

"We're good," John answered. "What's your brother up to? I haven't heard him for a while."

"Passed out under the tree and curled up in tissue paper with his stuffed frog. Duncan's in there with him on his dog pillow." John looked at his son for a long second and then chuckled.

"Busy morning for him," he answered casually. "Well, when he wakes up show him how to bunch up the gift wrap and tissue paper, and put it in a trash bag, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem," Dean answered easily. "So, no help then?"

"We got it, right?" John cast a look at Jim.

"Yeah, we're good Dean. It should be ready in another hour or two."

"Okay, then I'll just read over some school stuff for next semester and watch some TV in there while Sam is zonked out." John nodded. Dean left the kitchen.

"He's really blossoming at _MIT_," Jim commented.

"Yeah, I couldn't be more proud. I think he's going to have trouble leaving and going back though. He hasn't been away from Sammy since he came back when he was sick."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that, but he'll adjust."

"Yeah," John agreed.

**Four Months Later, April 1998**

"Sam," Ms. Penny asked from the front of the classroom. "What's this a picture of?" She lifted up a large color picture and Sam looked at it pensively. A girl sitting next to him was raising her hand and waving it in an uncoordinated fashion. The teacher smiled, "No, Chelsea, you answered the last one, it's Sam's turn. "Sam?"

"Sss…" he started. He was still improving from the additional speech deficits he'd incurred from the meningitis, but he was improving. "Sss…scissors," he answered tentatively.

"Good Sam, nice job," she encouraged. Sam offered a dimpled smile. He was pleased with himself. The pictures had been difficult over the last couple weeks, but his father and Jim had been taking turns with flashcards the school had given them to work with Sam at home.

**Later that Afternoon on the School Playground**

"Sammy," Chloe squealed as she ran up to him. "You smart today with Ms. Penny," she patted Sam on the back.

"My daddy and Uncle Jim, help me," he answered.

"My mommy help me," Chloe replied in return. "But, daddy go away … he work a lot."

"My mommy in heaven, but my daddy's home at night," Sam answered proudly. "He read me stories and play hide and seek."

"Your daddy sound like he a good daddy," Chloe replied. "My daddy good, too. He always bring me present from where he at when he go bye-bye."

"Really?" Sam smiled. "My daddy work on cars … he make them better like a doctor," he boasted. "My big brother Dean send me stuff from his school with a big yard and fff…fountain. He send me this," he leaned back and pointed to his sweatshirt with the initials, _MIT_ across the front.

"He nice to send you presents," Chloe reached out and touched the raised embroidered lettering on the sweatshirt. "Soft," she answered quietly. "What it say?"

"Daddy said it the name of Dean's school, he call it M … I … T, but Daddy say they letters like the alphabet, but this not a word." Chloe seemed to try and take in the info, but it was obvious at some point the logic was beyond what her mind would allow. She smiled and laughed. She reached up and gently poked her index finger into one of Sam's dimples. "What that? Your face has a hole, but only show when you smile."

"My Daddy calls them dimples."

"Oh." She smiled. "I like them." She answered quietly. Sam smiled in return.

It wasn't long before a few other children from the class came over and they soon were all playing a game of duck-duck-goose and laughing.

**May 2, 1998, Jim's House**

"Lord, give me strength," John lamented as he hurried around the kitchen. Jim chuckled behind him. John turned and glared at his old friend. "What?"

"Hey, don't look at me you're the one that caved into giving Sammy a birthday party at home and inviting the kids from his class and their parents. We could have just gone to the Chucky Cheese twenty minutes away, but…"

"Fine," John sighed. "You want me to say you were right and I was wrong. That I didn't have a clue about birthday parties and kids, fine you were right oh wise one," John groused. "Look even Dean didn't have his first party until he was four and Mary put that together."

"John he's having a ball," Jim said with a smile and the children's parents are enjoying themselves, too. I just came in to take the cupcakes out to the picnic tables. The natives are getting restless." John glanced out at the various picnic tables they had set up and could see the parents talking, but keeping a watchful eye on the group of children making sure none wandered off toward the direction of the pond. "I'm going to take these out and you grab the piñata, okay? Tie it to the oak tree with the tire swing." John rolled his eyes and nodded. Jim smiled and walked out. John looked at the multi-colored horse standing in the corner of the kitchen.

"Well, today's not your lucky day," John spoke to the papier-mâché animal. "But, it should be over quick," he mused. There was a sound from the front of the house that caught John's attention. He thought he heard the front door opening up, so he poked his head into the living room knowing the party guests were all accounted for and presently in the backyard. He smiled as he saw the head of his son coming through the open door with a bag in hand and a gift bag in the other. "Dean?" He stepped into the room fully and approached his son. "I thought you were stuck on campus."

"Hey Dad," Dean leaned into his father's embrace and hugged him. "I finished up. I couldn't miss Sammy's birthday." Dean glanced around. "Looks like you've got a full house out there and let me guess you wrangled Jim into dealing with the masses," he commented with a wry smile.

"Hey, he's better with crowd control and kids than I am," John answered easily. Dean laughed. "Here," John reached for his son's bag. "Let me take this and I'll put it in yours and Sam's room. How long you here for?"

"I gotta fly out tomorrow late afternoon," Dean lamented. John saw the guilt in his son's eyes.

"Hey, we didn't even expect you and Sammy will be thrilled to see you. Go out there and see him."

Dean walked out the backdoor and caught Jim's watchful eye and saw the older man smile and inclined his head at the table Sam was sitting at currently licking the vanilla icing off his cupcake. Dean was almost to the table when his little brother looked up and saw his older sibling. "Dean!" Sam yelled and smiled as he hurried to stand up and run to his brother. The first thing that struck Dean was that his brother must have sprouted a good four inches since he'd last seen him and now Sam was near the height of his chin and he silently thought back to a conversation he'd had with his father a long while ago, and he was certain that his little brother would pass him up in height before he stopped growing.

Sam's run was still uncoordinated as his right side still wanted to hesitate, but he hurried to his brother and threw his arms around him. "Dean! You did come," he spoke quickly.

"Of course I did kiddo," Dean returned the hug. "But, I gotta leave tomorrow for school again." Sam studied his brother and smiled.

"It okay," he answered happily. "You here now. Come on!" He pulled his brother toward the tables and announced loudly and proudly. "This my big brother Dean." Sam replied. "Dean these my friends from school." Dean smiled at them all.

"Hi," Dean smiled at all of Sam's school friends.

"Hey," John's voice broke in. "The piñata is hung and ready for all of you." Sam hurried up to his father and wrapped his arms around his father and hugged him.

"Thanks for the best birthday Daddy!" Sam looked up into his father's face with his wide dark eyes and the eldest Winchester could see his child's happiness. He also noted that soon his son would be eye to eye with him. John hugged him back.

"You're welcome Sammy. You're happy?" Sam smiled in reply.

"I fifteen today that's this many fingers," Sam displayed ten fingers proudly and then closed his hands and quickly displayed five more fingers. "That fifteen."

"That's right kiddo," John answered warmly. "Where'd you learn that?" John knew Sam still had difficulty with mathematics and still hadn't moved beyond a third grade level for his math skills, but his reading was improving and he tested around a fourth grade level for that, but again he still had difficulties. His handwriting was improving, but still resembled that of a kindergarten or first grade student, large and wobbly. They worked nightly on various school lessons the learning academy sent home. Sam attended classes five days a week and John had enrolled him in a weekend day camp for special education children where they worked on art projects and practiced life skills, but today he'd kept Sam home for his birthday.

"Uncle Jim teach me last night. I mmm…mem…" Sam's forehead creased as he searched his mind for the word. "I mem…" John smiled softly.

"You memorized how to do it?" John offered quietly. Sam nodded quickly.

"That a big word," he admonished.

"Yes, it is," John agreed. "Well, you better get over to Uncle Jim and your friends. They can't start without the birthday boy." Sam hurried off, but not before hugging his father again. John had quickly become adjusted to how much more affectionate his child was after the accident and in many ways Sammy seemed so innocent to John that he wanted to always make sure his little boy felt loved and protected. The parents had got up and went to watch the piñata game that Jim seemed to be enjoying as he dodged a few precarious swings of a stick from a blind-folded child swinging wildly at the air trying to make contact with the hanging horse.

"He's got so big dad," Dean commented as he stepped up beside his father.

"Yeah, he's growing like a weed."

"How's he doing school wise?"

"They tested the kids again and they said that Sammy's made progress. I mean when he first game out of the coma from the drowning they had classified him with severe mental retardation they said his IQ was around 32, but he's continued to improve. It wasn't, but a handful of months and he was trying to speak and follow commands and they tested him again and said his IQ was 45 and he had moderate MR, and he's continued to do much better with the schooling and continued rehab."

"What did the new testing say?"

"Sammy's IQ is around 66 to 67 they say, I guess that's considered mild mental retardation, but the rehab says that those with mild MR as adults can in some instances live by themselves, but need help with certain things. Sammy's math and reading skills have sort of hit a plateau, but could still improve and his life skills therapist thinks he could maybe live on his own in a group situation where they had their own rooms, but that he'd need help managing his affairs." Dean looked at his father as if he'd suddenly sprouted horns and hooves.

"Dad, no disrespect, but you've got a screw loose if you think I'm ever going to let Sammy live in some freakin' group home." John didn't take offense to his son's hot words.

"Dean, I know that and he won't. Sammy belongs with his family and I think he'll be just fine with the status quo, but Dean," John began hesitantly as he looked across the large backyard and watched his son stand still while Jim tied a bandanna over his eyes and handed Sam the stick to hit the piñata with. "Dean, I'm not getting any younger, Jim isn't either and there's always the chance you'll go before Sammy…" Dean looked at his father wide-eyed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He said under his breath so the young party goers wouldn't hear him. "You're talkin' like you and Jim are old men or something and last time I checked I'm only nineteen … hardly signing up for my social security benefits." John chuckled.

"Dean, I don't have plans for leaving you boys anytime soon and God forbid anything happen to you, it's just I'm Sam's father and I have to make sure that he's going to be taken care of if something were to happen to either of us."

"Jim would take him Dad, but nothin' is going to happen. It's not like you're still hunting, so you'll be around until your pushing a walker." John smiled.

"Like I said son, I have no plans on buying the farm anytime soon, but there's illness and accidents, you never know. I never really thought about this stuff when we hunted. I mean, I worried about you boys getting hurt and I guess I always figured if something happened to me Jim would take you in or maybe even Bobby." Dean remembered Bobby Singer they had met him quite a few times while growing up, but hadn't seen the man in a long time. It's just that after Sammy's accident I couldn't kid myself anymore and things are never going to be easy for your little brother. He's always going to have obstacles to get past and some he may never overcome."

"Dad, when Sammy's old enough I want him with me," Dean replied quietly.

"I know Dean, but you're going to have your own life. You'll marry and have children of your own. What about that young lady you've mentioned to me … Julie?"

"We're just seeing each other Dad … it's not like I'm out shopping for a ring or something. I'm nineteen."

"I know, but one day. Dean, Sammy's happy here and he likes his school and his rehab is here. He has a routine he likes and uprooting him doesn't seem like the thing to do."

"Then I'll move back when I graduate from school," Dean hurried on.

"Like Hell Dean. Son, you're already in an advanced degree program that you'll basically be walking away with a bachelors and graduate degree when you graduate. Also, you already mentioned that internship with that engineering company."

"Dad, I've been thinking when I'm done at _MIT_ I'd like to live nearby. There are opportunities not far from Blue Earth that I could look into after I finish my degree and I can commute and if and when it comes time I want Sammy … even if it's after …" Dean's words drifted off. He knew his father would die one day, he knew even parent's didn't live forever, but he still wasn't at the point he could actually say it." John smiled knowing his child's hidden thoughts.

"Hey son," John placed a hand on his child's shoulder. "Like I said I've got no plans to check out anytime soon." John paused. "Um, you might want to talk to Jim about a few things though."

"Jim? Why?"

"Well, he was mentioning his will the other day … anyway he sort of mentioned that he planned on leaving you the house and his estate. It's a big house and it's paid for and we've been renovating when we can and …"

"The house? Really? But, why?"

"Well, who else is he going to leave it to? You're Jim's family Dean and he thinks of you and your brother as his nephews. He can't leave it to Sammy, so it's yours. And, Sam really loves it here Dean and Blue Earth is good for him. The people are great here and I think Sammy will have a better life here than some big city." Dean agreed with the logic.

"Really? He's leaving all this to me?" Dean glanced over at Jim, the man he considered as his Uncle. He watched the religious man with Sam and the other children. Dean couldn't get his mind around the fact Jim intended to leave him his house. He let out a big sigh. "How'd we get on this maudlin conversation about who'll take care of Sammy and last will and testaments?" John smiled.

"I believe it started with you asking how Sammy was doing in school and discussions of IQ scores."

"Dean! I did it! Daddy look," Sam's happy shouts broke into their conversation across the yard and they looked as candy and tiny toys fell from the broken piñata that still bobbed and danced on its tether. Sam had a huge smile on his face as his friends descended on the candy treats and toys falling from the horse.

"Way to go Sammy," Dean yelled across the yard as he and his father walked toward their youngest family member. Sam waved and turned back to his friends as he started to dig through the candy and mini toys.

**Later that Night**

Dean lied in bed staring at the ceiling and watched the outside lights from the backyard play against the shadows on the high old ceiling. He could hear Sammy breathing quietly in sleep in the bed next to him. He turned his face and looked at his brother. Sam's twin bed still had the toddler bars raised at night, so he wouldn't roll out of bed in his sleep, even with an area rug on the hard oak floors it would be a hard hit if he fell out of bed. Sam was curled on his side facing his brother. His hand was wrapped around a stuffed bear and he held it close to him in sleep. His little brother was fifteen today and Dean looked at him and saw just a kid sleeping with his stuffed bear completely content with his life. Sammy had no recollection or understanding of the person he was before he fell into the cold lake that horrible afternoon and Dean was thankful.

The evening had ended with Jim talking to Dean about the house and his estate. It was just a formality, but Dean still didn't like to think that one day his family wouldn't all be together. Jim had been pragmatic in his response _Dean … son, we can't live forever, I just want to be sure you boys always have a home and Sammy loves it here. He's happy._ It was true Sam was happy here and the people here accepted him and Dean didn't really fear his brother being rejected or seen as differently. Maybe, it was because the town loved Jim so much that they accept Sammy, but the kid did grow on you, even with strangers. A whimper from Sam's side of the room drew Dean out of his thoughts. He watched Sam move restlessly in his blankets and then quiet before he could get out of bed to comfort his brother from his nightmare. Dean watched silently for a few minutes and when he was sure the nightmare had passed he slid back under the covers and decided to shut his mind off for the night and sleep.

The thunder and lightening cracked and banged outside, Sam's eyes snapped open and he hurried out of his covers and was about to go to his father's room when he realized as his sleepy mind recalled his big brother was here. "Dean?" Sam's voice broke into Dean's sleep. "Dean?" the voice was his little brother's and it sounded scared. Dean opened his eyes and saw his sibling standing by his bed.

"What's wrong kiddo?" he asked just as another loud thunder clap and lightening happened. "Scared of the storm little man," he could see the fear in his brother's eyes.

"Dean, I sleep with you, please," his voice hurried along in it's new timbre that Dean hadn't totally become accustomed to as his brother's body embraced puberty.

"Sammy it's just a storm. You're okay."

"Please," and Dean saw a slight tremor work its way through his little brother's lanky body. He smiled softly and sighed as he scooted over in his own twin bed and lifted the blanket.

"Come on," he encouraged and Sam smiled as he slid in putting his back against his big brother's chest. Dean dropped the blanket down and tucked it around his brother. He put his arm over his brother protectively. "Now go to sleep Sammy."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Uncle Jim says thunder … is God moving his fff…furn…" Sam sighed when the word wouldn't form.

"Furniture," Dean added with an amused face his brother couldn't see … only Jim would try to allay his sibling's fears with an anecdote about thunder being God making noise moving furniture around.

"Yeah," Sam replied happily at the provided word. "But, it still scare me. Why he so loud?" Dean chuckled against his best efforts not too. "What funny?" Sam huffed and squirmed over onto his back and turned to face Dean.

"Nothin' Sammy, sorry I laughed. Now, turn back over and go to sleep." Sam did as told and Dean settled his arm back over his brother.

"Dean?"

"What now Sam?"

"I miss you when you at your school. I glad you here for my bbb…birthday." Dean felt his chest ache at his baby brother's words.

"I miss you too kiddo. Happy birthday Sammy."

"You best present I got," Sam answered quietly as sleep claimed him and he drifted off under the safety of his brother's protective arm. Dean nestled closer to his little brother and was glad that Sam couldn't see the silent tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, you should expect some larger time leaps occurring in the next chapters. **

**Thanks for reading! I hope you're still enjoying it, I hope.**


	8. Reality Shifted

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for the positive reviews for chapter 7. This chapter is around 27 pages long. Thanks for sticking with the story, so far. I appreciate every reader, PM, comment and review. I hope you enjoy the update! Time leaps, once again.

**Chapter Eight**

**Reality Shifted**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Oh we never know where life will take us. I know it's just a ride on the wheel, and we never know when death will shake us, and we wonder how it will feel … I know I'll never see you again, but the time together through all the years will take away these tears, it's okay now … Life's so fragile and love's so pure, we can't hold on, but we try. We watch how quickly it disappears and we never know why … But, I'm okay now, you can go now … goodbye…"_ excerpt from Linda Ronstadt, _Goodbye my Friend_

**One Year Later, June 1999, Blue Earth, Minnesota **

"Sam be careful with the fish hook," John's brow furrowed as he watched his son bait the hook. "Here let me," he attempted to take the hook from his son and Sam jerked away.

"I do it," he answered in a frustrated tone. In the last year Sam had grown and now was at his father's eye level when they stood, but for the moment was seated in a boat.

"You're going to hurt yourself," John hissed under his breath.

"Patience John," Jim chided quietly next to his friend. They had taken Sam to the city lake for the day and Jim had borrowed a boat from a parishioner.

"See," Sam replied suddenly as he held the hook by the fishing line attached to it. "I put the worm on like you show me. I do it." John relented and smiled at his son. His youngest had made more improvements with his social skills over the past year and his cognitive and decision making skills although below his sixteen years had improved. Sam had recently tested a bit higher at a 68 to 69 IQ level. John had been told that Sam would most likely plateau at this point, but the various rehabs and his life skill classes were helping him to mature in certain ways and handle more things as he became older, but John knew and accepted that his child would always need some form of help. He hated the phrase mental retardation and never used it around his son, although it was terminology he was intimately acquainted with when it came to getting services from the state and city for his son. He worked at the auto garage thirty-two hours a week and made sure when he wasn't at work he was spending time with Sam or taking his child to various extra curricular activities.

Sam's school had started multiple after school activities: soccer, T-ball, and reading clubs, etc. The children were all disabled in some way, cognitively and physically, some were in wheelchairs, or used walkers and crutches, some had no mobility problems at all while others were like Sam and had some form of motor control and delay affecting them. Sam loved T-ball for the boys in his age group and he had taken to the reading club with fervor. He still had problems with reading, but John was pleased when his reading skills were tested and gauged to be at a fifth or sixth grade level, although his math skills had only improved slightly and hovered around fourth grade abilities.

However, Sam had begun to exert some of his young adulthood lately and despite his cognitive and emotional state being that of a grade school child of nine or ten he had begun to rebel against his father and much to John's chagrin his son had discovered yelling 'no' was a very effective method in making his father angry. John was excited that in a couple weeks Dean would be home for the summer. His visits weren't as frequent as he would like, but his eldest child was doing well and thriving in school and life and Sam loved having his big brother around. He still couldn't believe sometimes that he was the father of sixteen and twenty year old sons. Sam was fidgeting with his life jacket and John frowned as he watched his son unzip the jacket and make a move to start removing it. "No you don't kiddo. You keep that jacket on while we're in this boat. You know the rules." He started to reach for the jacket to draw it together and zip it for his son.

"No! I sixteen," Sam shouted. "I big boy now. I no need jacket. You and Uncle Jim not wear any," Sam's voice was defiant and John took a steadying breath, but wasn't sure how long he'd be able to remain calm. The boy could try his last nerve these days. He reached up again saying nothing. Sam jerked. "I said No!" John snapped.

"Dammit Sammy!" he bellowed.

"John…" Jim spoke softly. John turned blazing eyes toward him and he relented allowing John to handle the situation.

"Stop moving around in this damn boat. Now here," he grabbed the jacket and pulled more abruptly than he should have and jerked Sam toward him, but he was worried and angry. "You can't swim Sam," John hissed. "This jacket will keep you safe if you fall in," he chided. Sam stared at his father as he continued his tirade. He made a move to lean away from his father and John yanked him back. "Stop it! I can't zip it up if you keep moving. Why is it so damn hard for you to follow orders? I'm not saying this stuff to hear myself talk. Dammit, just sit still and leave the jacket alone. Do you understand if you fall in without one you could drown? Drown!" John yelled. Sam stared at his father wide-eyed now in fear. He didn't understand that word _drown_. His father never yelled at him like this. John zipped the jacket up angrily … he was mostly upset with himself for having just screamed at his child who was acting just like he should … the petulant mind a nine or ten year old with the raging hormones of a teenager. Sam's bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes welled up. John looked up into his son's face and saw large tears running unchecked down his boy's face and his heart broke.

"Oh, Sammy, I'm sorry kiddo, Dad didn't mean to yell. You did a good job with that worm," he tried to make amends. "I'm sorry I scared you okay. It's just that I want you to be safe, okay? The jacket will keep you safe." Sam's breath hitched in his chest and John made a tentative move to embrace his son. He went halfway and waited to see if Sam would allow it. Sam eyed his father and scooted closer and allowed his father to envelop him in his strong arms. "I'm sorry kiddo, I really am. Dad's going to try real hard not to ever yell like that again, okay?" He felt Sam nod against his chest.

Sam's voice hiccupped as he spoke quietly into his father's shirt. "Daddy?"

"Yeah sport?"

"What drown mean?" John's chest tightened at his child's question. "You say I no swim and could drown … what drown?" Sam continued on when his father's silence followed his initial question. Sam tilted his head back from his father's chest and looked into his father's now anguished eyes as memories flooded John's mind.

**Later that Night **

"Daddy?" Sam began as he climbed into his bed and let his father pull up the sheet and light summer blanket.

"Yeah, kiddo?" John spoke warmly as he tucked his child into bed. Sam dropped onto his back and looked up at his father as he sat on the side of his bed.

"So, water hurt my head?"

"Sammy," John sighed. He had never explained to his son that he'd been in an accident. Sam had always just gone along with the status quo and John never felt compelled to tell his son of the horrific accident at the lake all that had mattered to John back when the accident happened was that his child survive and hopefully remember his family. He did remember, but it was obvious that he couldn't remember the person he was before. "No, Sammy, the water didn't hurt your head, but you couldn't breathe and your brain," John pointed to his head. "Your brain inside your head gets hurt when it doesn't get air … when you can't breathe."

"So, I didn't breathe?"

"No, Sammy, you didn't. The water wouldn't let you when you were under the ice and you went to sleep down there," John wasn't sure how to explain the accident in a way his son would comprehend. "But, there were men that pulled you out from under the ice and flew you in a helicopter to a big hospital where they made you better."

"I flew in the sky," Sam's voice suddenly sounded so young and held the excitement of a young child.

"Yes, Sammy you flew in the sky," John replied. Sam studied his father for a long moment as he pulled at the edges of the soft blanket in his hands.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"What re…re…rrr..." Sam took a frustrated breath and tried again. "What retarded mean? John's eyes snapped toward his son with intensity.

"Where did you hear that word Samuel?" Sam frowned at his father's reaction.

"It a bad word like the ones I not allowed to say?" Sam asked with a worried face fearing he'd said a cuss word.

"No, Sammy," John reassured. "It's just … where did you hear that word?"

"At Fff…Fulmer's," he forced out.

"The grocery? When?"

"Other day with Uncle Jim. He let me look at books while he get his pills."

"And?" John pressed.

"I sit and read Dr. Seuss and two boys come over and look at stuff," Sam continued on as he tried to figure out why his father seemed so bothered by this mystery word. "They laugh at my book and said I must be rrr…retarded to be rrr…reading it. They go away laughing. What that word mean?" John smiled softly at his child.

"Nothing Sammy, but don't say it anymore, okay. Did they say anything else?"

"Yes, they say big word when they walk away, hhh…handi," Sam frowned. "They say I rrr…retarded handicap." Daddy, want to know," Sam looked earnestly at his father. "Why they laugh at me?"

"They must have thought Dr. Seuss was funny Sammy that's all, now go to sleep," John urged. He leaned in and kissed the top of his son's head and inhaled the vanilla scent that was his baby boy.

"Yeah," Sam giggled. "They laugh cause Dr. Seuss funny … he is funny Daddy." John smiled at his son.

"Yeah, he is," he agreed.

"Daddy will you read me a story?" John was pleased at Sam's complete sentence. They happened occasionally and were always blessed little sparks of hope.

"Why don't we do it together Sammy?" John suggested. "You start, okay?"

"Okay."

"Which one?" John picked up two books that Sam had on his side table. Sam pointed. John chuckled at the choice; it was Sam's current all time favorite, _Green Eggs and Ham_. "Okay Sammy start here," John opened the page as he repositioned himself against his child's headboard as he sat next to Sam. It was during moments like this that John forgot his boy was sixteen.

"I am Sam," he began hesitantly. "I am Sam," he giggled. "That my name, too, Daddy." John chuckled.

"Yes, it is Sammy, now read it again."

"I am Sam. Sam I am …"

**Later the Next Day, Jim's Church**

"Uncle Jim why no school today?" Sam sat fiddling with a hymnal in the back of a wooden pew.

"Remember your Dad said the school had a water main break and wouldn't be fixed until tomorrow, so you're with good old Uncle Jim for the day."

"What a water main?"

"What _is_ a water main, Sammy?" Jim encouraged the revised sentence from the boy. "Try again Sammy."

"What is a water main?"

"Good boy," Jim smiled and ruffled Sam's hair playfully. "Well, it's complicated Sammy, but basically your school doesn't have any water to drink and the bathrooms aren't working because there is no water. You'll be back tomorrow. What you don't like spending the day with your Uncle Jim?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, but why can't I see Daddy at work?" Jim looked at Sam for a second and smiled at his perfect sentence.

"Well, Sammy, your Dad works around cars and it isn't safe for you to be there. So, you're stuck with me for the day."

"Not stuck. I have fun. I help you."

"Yes, you do."

"Uncle Jim," Sam began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"How you …" he stopped and began again. "How do you find what a word means when you not know?"

"You ask someone or you look it up in a dictionary. Why do you ask? Is there a word you don't understand?"

"Yeah," Sam looked down at his hands. "I hear two and ask Daddy last night, but he not answer me. He just say not to say it. What a dic…dictionary?"

Sam went on to tell Jim about the boys in the grocery store and Jim knew why John had avoided answering his boy, but it was obvious that Sam wasn't going to drop it. "Uncle Jim?" Sam urged with wide-eyes.

"Okay, Sammy," Jim knew he'd probably get the wrath of John Winchester later, but if he wasn't going to answer his son he'd rather do it before Sam asks someone else. Here let's go look in the dictionary and then I will explain it to you as best as I can, okay?" Sam smiled.

"Okay," Sam jumped up from his seat. Jim took Sam to his office in the rectory and sat him down. He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled down a large dictionary. "Wow, that a big book."

"Yes, Sammy," Jim agreed. "It has lots of words and what they mean in it."

A short while later Jim scooted the book between himself and Sam and pointed at a small entry. "We have to look them up separately Sammy because they are spelled differently. Here's the first one … just read what I'm pointing to, okay?" Sam nodded and leaned forward.

"Hhh…handicap," Sam began. "to hhh…have impppp…impediments or dd…disadvantage." Sam looked up at his Uncle and frowned. "What these mean?" Sam pointed to _impediments _and _disadvantage_.

"Sammy what it means is that if you have a handicap you just have to work harder at doing things than some people that's all. It doesn't mean you can't do it," Jim asserted. "It just might take longer that's all." Sam looked at him confused. "Okay, you know how Dean can zip his jacket faster than you, but it takes you longer, but you can still do it?" Sam nodded.

"My fingers don't always be nice," Sam lamented. "Hard. They not always do good with little things."

"It's called small motor problems Sammy … but for you … you just need to know that means you have trouble doing little things with your fingers sometimes, but that's getting better with therapy, right?" Sam seemed to understand.

"Other stuff harder too," Sammy spoke softly, as if understanding for the first time that he was different from his brother, his father and Uncle Jim.

"I know kiddo," Jim supplied softly. "But, you keep trying and you never give up and that makes you special. You make us all proud."

"But, hh…handicap mean I different … Dean always do better than me?" Sam raised an eyebrow in concern. "But I big boy now. I not need Santa or Easter bunny anymore. Daddy even take sss…sleeping bars off bed now. I big boy and go to big boy school soon, right?"

"You don't like your school?" Jim looked at Sam. The academy was designed to provide a full education to special needs children, although the local middle school and high school did have mainstream special education programs for children who wanted to attend public school. The academy seemed better suited for Sam's needs and well-being for right now.

"I like," Sam answered. "Uncle Jim?"

"Yes?"

"My school … all kid's hhh…handicap?" Sam looked at Jim with pleading eyes.

"Yes, but remember that just means they all have a little extra trouble doing something that's all."

"Like Rrr…Ryan," Sam started. "He no walk on his legs, but he still play at recess just harder cause he no run?" Sam looked questioningly at Jim.

"That's right Sammy, but he's still you're friend right even though he can't walk like you?"

"Yes, he nice." Sam pointed to the book not about to let the second word go. "What rrr…retarded mean? Show me."

"Here Sammy," Jim pointed at a short line of text. "Now, Sam some words have lots of different meanings depending on how they are used, but this is what you want to know." He pointed. "Read it to me and we'll talk about it."

"Rrr…retard … to be delayed," Sam read slowly.

"Do you understand the word delayed?" Sam shook his head.

"It just means slower … to be slower."

"Cause it takes me longer to do things," Sam's speech was suddenly succinct. "Cause I don't think fast … that makes me rrr…retarded … I'm rrr…retarded?"

"No, Sammy," Jim rushed his response. "Listen to me kiddo," he turned and faced Sam looking him in the eye. "You're smart, kind, and you're a good boy. These words don't mean anything. People, who don't have to work as hard as you or like the other children at your school … they don't understand the differences and they can say mean things or treat you differently," Jim ran his hand through Sam's unruly bangs. "But, they are the ones that have the real handicap Sammy, okay? Not you. Never let words hurt you Sammy or make you feel bad about yourself, okay? The people who really care for you see just Sammy and love you for being you, got it?" Sam looked at Jim for a long moment and nodded, but there was a clear welling of tears in his young eyes, but the tears weren't falling. Jim pulled the boy into a hug and held him tightly.

"So," Sam said quietly into Jim's shirt. "I never go to big boy school like Dean?" Jim pulled back and looked into Sam's large innocent dark eyes.

"Listen here kiddo, the word _never_ isn't a word I want you to say, okay? You can do anything you set your mind to, alright? Or at the least you never give up trying." Sam nodded. "Sammy you like your school and your friends, right?"

"Yes, I love school. It fun. My friend's are lots of fun, too." Jim smiled.

"And, you like your teachers?"

"I love Miss Penny, she tells me I smart and we do cool stuff in class." Jim's eyes lit up at Sam's happiness.

"Well, you know your friend's some may go to another school, but a lot of them will stay and your teachers won't go to another school with you." Sam frowned.

"I no leave school. I stay, but…"

"But, if you change your mind you can talk to your dad and see about going to a different school, okay?" Sam smiled and nodded.

"Uncle Jim?"

"Yes?"

"I hungry. It lunch time." He pointed to the clock and Jim followed his finger.

"Where'd you learn that?" Jim asked.

"School, Miss Penny say when both hands on the number 12 … it lunch time."

"She's right kiddo. Well, how about some Dairy Queen, Sammy?"

"Yeah! Ccc…can I hhh…have a Bbb…Buster Bar for 'sert?"

"Sert? Let's try that again sport," Jim encouraged.

"Ddd…dessert," Sam replied.

"Sure, sounds good. Hey, why don't we swing by your Dad's work and see if he's had lunch yet, maybe he can come, too." Sam clapped.

Sam never mentioned his conversation with Jim to his father and he never asked his father what those words meant again. He knew they made his father sad.

**One Month Later, July 1999 – The Summer Festival and Carnival, Blue Earth**

Dean rubbed gentle circles on Sam's back as he continued to heave into a trashcan he had bent over. "See, Sammy, I told you that ride was going to make you sick. It spun too much and you'd just had lunch." Sam grumbled from the trashcan.

"Shut up," he groused. In the last month Sam had become a little more proficient in his speech, although it still had deficits and he was picking up on new phrases he heard around him or perhaps he was recalling them from his own damaged mental files from the life before the drowning. But, he had fallen into an old routine with Dean that caused the older sibling to sometimes confuse this Sam with the one he'd lost under the ice. "I'm fff…fine." He stood and looked his brother in the face. They stood eye to eye now.

"Sure you are," Dean surveyed his siblings green around the gills complexion. "Here," he started to lift a paper towel to Sam's chin to clean him up and he was surprised when Sam batted the hand away.

"I'm not baby," he hissed and snatched at the paper towel. "I take care of self." Dean raised an eyebrow and put his hands in the air in mock surrender.

"Okay, kiddo," he said in a placating tone. "What bug crawled up your butt?" he mumbled under his breath. Sam finished wiping his face and cleaning up. He balled the towel up and tossed it into the trash can as he glared at his big brother.

"You," Sam hissed.

"Me? Me what?" Dean reached out and stopped Sam from walking off.

"You the bug that ccc…crawled up mmm…my ass," he turned on his heel and started to walk away from his older brother. Dean stood dumbfounded for a full second or two and then smiled from ear to ear. Sam had for the first time understood a slang phrase without interpreting it literally and not only that he'd turned it around on his brother.

"Sam! Sammy, wait!" he called after his brother as he jogged to catch up. Sam turned and looked at his brother, but the one thing he was not expecting was his brother's huge smile. He frowned in confusion.

"You happy? Not mad?"

"Nah, Sammy, it's just …" Dean reconsidered pointing out the huge feat to his brother and decided not to, after all, his goal was to always treat Sammy the same no matter what he achieved. Sure he'd say he was proud of him and congratulate him on a job well done when he either tried or succeeded at something. "Nothing, kiddo, it's just you put your big brother in his place back there … good for you." Dean smiled. "Sorry, if I treat you like a kid Sammy. I know you're sixteen now … it's just when I'm away at school I feel like I'm missing out on so much of your life. Plus, look at you, you're as tall as me now," he said with a glint in his eye.

"I know," Sam said with pride. "Uncle Jim says I'll bbb…be ttt…taller than you and Daddy, probably." Dean rolled his eyes at the thought. Sam laughed. "Come on," he reached out and pulled Dean by an elbow. "I want to go in fun house."

"Sure thing Sammy. Oh, and kiddo," Dean hedged. Sam looked at him. "You better not let Dad hear you say ass or he'll yell at both of us." Sam smiled and nodded.

They reached the fun house and were in line, "Sam," a small voice spoke and Sam turned his head and smiled.

"Hi Chloe," his cheeks turned slightly pink. Dean grinned at the implication of the blush.

"Hi Sam, my mommy bring me." Chloe's mother stepped up and smiled at Dean.

"Hi Dean, I haven't seen you since Sam's birthday party last year. Jim says you're doing wonderfully at _MIT_."

"Hi Mrs. Kline, yeah it keeps me busy."

"Call me Margaret, Dean, no need for formalities." Sam reached up and tapped his brother's elbow.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Can me and Chloe go in?" Dean shared a glance with her mother Margaret Kline.

"Mommy, please," Chloe begged. "Me and Sammy can go."

"I suppose but only if Dean says it's okay for Sam to go in alone," she replied. Both youths turned to Dean with hopeful eyes.

"Okay, Sammy, we'll be right here when you come out, okay. Remember it's all make believe," he urged as a feared his little brother could become scared in there.

"I know," Sam admonished. "I be okay. Come on Chloe." Dean and Margaret both watched as Sam extended his hand to Chloe as they went into the funhouse together and she took it with a smile.

Chloe clung to Sam's arm as they walked through the funhouse and she jumped at things popping up from the shadows. "It okay Chloe," Sam spoke softly. A fake skeleton popped up suddenly and Chloe let out a small yelp and buried her face in Sam's t-shirt. Sam pulled them near a wall and stared at the dangling skeleton. "See," he urged. "It not real." She looked up from his shirt and looked at the fake bones dancing on a string. She turned and smiled at Sam. Sam felt his face flush and his stomach flip flopped. He didn't understand what he was feeling. Chloe looked at him intensely for a moment.

"You okay, Sammy?" Sam nodded and smiled.

"Tummy feels wiggly," Sam said with a dimpled smile. "You pretty," he said suddenly. She blushed. They both understood the context of pretty. She reached up and poked her finger in one of Sam's dimples.

"You cute, Sammy, Mommy says girls are pretty but boys are cute, so you cute."

"Cute?"

"Mommy says cute like pretty but for boys." Sam nodded. They looked at each other their faces drawing closer together. "I see mommy and daddy kiss a lot, you been kissed?"

"No, but I see Dean kiss a girl once when I was little … thought it was yucky looking, but…" They stood looking at each other and without preamble they leaned in bumping noses. They both laughed and rubbed their noses.

"I think mommy always turns her face, so her and daddy's noses don't mush …" She turned her head slightly and Sam leaned in as their lips touched tentatively. It was an innocent kiss; two young hearts exploring this right of passage. Sam reached up and felt her face with a hand and she leaned into it. "I see mommy and daddy do things with their tongues once, they not know I see, it gross though," she said quietly as they separated slightly.

Dean looked at his watch, "man, how long does it take to get through there?"

"Well, they couldn't have gone anywhere; we'll give them another five minutes." Dean nodded.

Sam and Chloe tried a tentative second kiss. "Warm," Chloe said as they separated and touched her mouth.

"Wet," Sam rubbed a finger over his lips. "Feel nice," he said as an afterthought. Chloe smiled.

"I like too." Chloe responded with a grin. "Mommy says she loves daddy whenever they kiss," Chloe started. "She always says it to me when she hugs or kisses me, too." Chloe was trying to reason out her feelings for Sam. "You still have a wiggly tummy?" Chloe asked suddenly. Sam nodded. She smiled in return. "My tummy feel wiggly, too," she replied. "I think the wiggly means I love you." Sam understood the meaning of 'I love you' he heard it all the time from his father, uncle Jim even Dean … love was a good thing and it made him feel happy. He felt happy now.

"I love you, too," Sam took her hand squeezing gently and they finished the rest of the trip through the funhouse.

"Finally," Dean chided as Sam came out with Chloe. Both youths were smiling from ear to ear.

"Did you have fun sweetie," Mrs. Kline asked her daughter. "You weren't scared?"

"It fun and I not scared Sammy ppp…protect me."

"Well, thank you for looking after her Sam. We better be going honey. We're picking your father up at the airport in a couple hours."

"Bye, Sammy," Chloe gave Sam a knowing grin.

"Bye, Chloe," Sam flashed a broad smile. Dean watched the exchange with curious eyes. They waved at the departing figures.

**Later that Night**

Dean stared at the ceiling trying to fall asleep. Sam had gone to bed a couple hours before him and he was startled when Sam's voice pierced the quiet. "Dean?"

"Sammy? What are you doing awake?" Dean turned his head and looked at his brother's bed. "You okay?"

"I fine," Sam answered. "I …" Sam stopped and tried again. "Me and …" Dean turned on his side and looked at his brother.

"What is it Sammy?"

"I love Chloe," Sam said quietly. Dean looked at his brother.

"Well, you're good friends Sammy," he offered. "You've been good friends ever since you started school. It's okay to love friends." Sam stared at his big brother. He was confused by his feelings but he knew enough to understand it was different than Dean was implying.

"No, she make my tummy feel wiggly and we kiss today." Now, that made Dean sit up and swing his legs over the edge of his bed.

"You kissed?" Dean asked to clarify. "Sammy do you even know what kissing is?"

"I not stupid Dean," Sam retorted. "I see you kiss Maggie long time ago by pond … you not know I see." Dean thought back to his high school girlfriend for a moment. "We kiss."

"Where? In the funhouse?" His mind putting two and two together about his brother's and Chloe's extended trip in the funhouse. He rubbed a hand over his face. This was one talk he had mistakenly thought he'd be able to avoid. He was certain his brother was still in the 'girls were kooties stage, but maybe biology and hormones were dictating a change.

"We kiss twice and I like it," Sam spoke proudly, now more sure of himself.

"You're too young Sammy," Dean countered as he tried to figure out how to handle this.

"Not either," Sam refuted. "I sixteen." Dean sighed.

"Kissing is for adults Sammy." He could tell by the look his brother was giving him that he wasn't buying that argument. He wanted to congratulate his brother on his first kiss, after all, it was a milestone that Dean had assumed his brother would never have, and man, was he wrong. He felt out of his element. "Go to sleep Sammy, we'll talk in the morning and maybe Dad will have something to say."

"I not do anything wrong," Sam asserted. "I not bad boy."

"No, no, Sammy," Dean consoled. "You're right," he agreed. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just you need to understand something's that's all. You're a good boy," he assured.

Dean waited until he heard Sam fall back asleep and went back to staring at the ceiling. His mind too busy to sleep.

**Two Days Later, Jim's House **

"So, you're going to help Caleb and Joshua?" Dean asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter facing his father.

"Well, the job is nearby and it sounds like a textbook haunting, so I should be in and out, but they need the extra help. It looks like it might be a negative entity and not a poltergeist, so they may have their hands full pretty quick, plus it's a pretty big turn of the century farmhouse … a lot of ground to cover.

"I'll be staying behind Dean," Jim added his voice to the conversation. "No need for me to go."

"But, Dad," Dean began. "I thought you were done with hunting, ya know?"

"Dean I haven't gone on another hunt since Sammy was hurt. It's been four years," John looked at his son earnestly. "No hunting the demon, no hunting anything."

"It won't be four years until December," Dean corrected.

"Okay, a few months, but it's just a quick hunt."

"What if you get hurt Dad? You said it yourself why you couldn't hunt anymore … you have to think about Sammy."

"I do think about your brother. Every day, and every hour of the day, but he's older now and he's doing great in his rehab and special classes. I'll be back tomorrow night."

Sam stood in the hallway listening to the conversation. He no longer was followed to the bathroom. He was trusted to do what he had to and if he ever needed help he'd just call out, but he hadn't needed help for a long while. His mind was trying to process what he was hearing. There were vague memories that filtered into his mind about the life before Uncle Jim's and then he remembered what his family once did.

"Dad," Dean started again, but stopped himself as Sam entered the kitchen.

"Hey kiddo," John said as Sam came into view. Sam smiled at his father.

"Dad," Sam tried out the shortened version. After all, Dean never called their father Daddy, _so maybe if he really was a big boy_, he thought to himself then he should use 'Dad' like his big brother. The occupants of the kitchen looked at Sam with wide-eyes.

"Yeah, Sam?" John asked. "Everything okay?"

"You sss…should go," Sam said matter of fact.

"Go where?" John looked from his youngest to his oldest trying to figure out where this was going.

"The hunt," Sam replied simply. "Go kill boogieman."

"Sammy?" Dean pushed himself off the counter and approached. "What'd you just say?"

"Sam," John and Jim both said in unison. "You remember?" John's eyes misted at the importance of his son's simple statement. "You remember about hunting?" Sam nodded.

"I see pictures in my head," Sam answered honestly.

"Memories Sammy," John answered softly. "Those pictures in your head are called memories."

"I hear you talk to Dean and Uncle Jim about hhh…haunting and I rrr…remember."

John felt his throat tighten. "What pictures do you see in your head Sammy?" John decided his son's vocabulary was easier for him to handle and if memories were pictures then he'd called them pictures for now.

"Lot's of them … very fast," Sam's eyes looked distant as he tried to recall. "Put ugly creature on fire … it made a loud noise when it die, but it bad and had to die. I rrr…remember a green room with two beds," Sam scrunched his face. "Water in bbb…bathroom stink," Sam looked from his father to his brother.

Dean and John looked at each other and both instantly remembered where Sam was talking about. It had been a horrible excuse for a motel in some hole in the wall town in Idaho. The water had smelled like rotten eggs – they'd all hated it, but especially Sammy. "Idaho," John and Dean said at the same time.

"We were in Idaho Sammy," Dean spoke. "You remember that? You were only nine or ten."

"Rrr…remember," Sam answered. "I know it a sss…secret," Sam said quietly as if he expected the walls of the large old house to tell his family's secret of hunting. "I not ttt…tell any of my friends … promise." John stepped forward and placed both of his broad hands on each side of his youngest son's face.

"I know Sammy," he encouraged. "You were always very good with keeping secrets."

"What else Sammy?" Dean was eager to find out what else his little brother remembered of his life … their life before the drowning.

"Dean, give him time," Jim spoke evenly. "Let's not push."

"I…" Sam started as more memories flashed through his young mind. He felt panic rise up in his chest at the sensation of choking, his lungs fighting for air that wouldn't come and the encroaching water as it filled his throat. Memories assaulted him of a lake and the cold water. He remembered hitting the ice from below and the way the daylight looked through the thick ice … muted and soft … comforting in some odd way and then blackness swallowed him whole and his next memory was simply faces, his father and brother looking down at him worry in their eyes qith tentative smiles on their faces. The sounds of beeping and an irritating click and whoosh entered his head, but the faces faded and things were patchy after that. His breath hitched in his chest at the onslaught. John cast a concerned glance at his oldest and Jim before he stepped forward and placed his hands on his son's shoulders.

"Shh," he comforted. "It's okay Sammy. Take it easy." He pulled his son against himself and felt the tremor in his young body. Sam clutched at his father's shirt and buried his face in his shoulder.

"I…I … rrr…remember water … trapped …" John pulled his son closer and felt his own body shake at the thought. His baby boy remembered drowning … or at least the moment's right before.

"You're okay Sam," John soothed as one hand now rubbed circles on his son's back while the other gently stroked the fringe of his son's hair.

The kitchen was silent except for Sam's gentle sniffles as the recollection of memories and sensations abated.

**One Month Later, Late August 1999**

"We're going to miss you around here son," John looked at his eldest with warm eyes.

"Yeah, me too," Dean agreed.

"I'm glad Jim said he'd pick up Sammy from his day camp today and take him out for ice cream," John commented idly. "It gives us a chance to spend some time together."

"Yeah," Dean answered with a sincere smile. "So, did you talk to Chloe's mom concerning the day camp stuff?"

"Yeah, she thinks it's fine that Sammy and Chloe are at the camp together during the day. They're supervised and anyway, it's a crush ya know. It's harmless but I'm keeping my eyes open. It's puppy love." John assured.

"Yeah, Sammy deserves this. He's been great this summer ya know? I'll miss him when I leave."

"Thanks for spending so much time with Sammy this summer Dean. He's made some great progress with his rehab and you've helped him a lot."

"Dad, you and Jim do all the work. I almost feel like I'm a day late and a dollar short."

"Dean," John admonished. "Your brother looks forward to seeing you and you do help him a lot, more than you know. Hey, he calls me Dad now and I think that's because he finally picked up on the fact you always say it and not Daddy."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean agreed. "I still miss you guys when I'm gone."

"I know. We miss you too, but I couldn't be more proud of you son and what you're doing. So, you never really mention Cambridge or Boston that much you still like the cities?"

"Yeah, I mean Cambridge where campus is located is pretty close to Boston and I go over on the weekends and we see the sights."

"We meaning?" John asked with a glint in his eye. Dean blushed.

"Julie and me," Dean answered sheepishly.

"So, last time we spoke about her was in May when you came for Sammy's birthday," John started. "You claimed you weren't serious then, hmm…"

"Okay, so maybe we're a little more involved now," Dean admitted.

"Well, just so were on the same page, I'm not ready to be a grandpa yet, okay," John said with a knowing smile.

"Dad," Dean lamented with a smile the betrayed his tone. "We're careful, okay," Dean admitted. "And, anyway, kids aren't on our minds right now."

"Good," John replied. "So, you never tell me anything, so spill. You meet her at _MIT_?"

"Well, sort of," Dean began. "We share a common friend at _MIT_ and we met at a party and hit it off. She lives in Boston and is going to law school."

"So, she's a smart cookie, eh?"

"Yeah, and hot," Dean allowed his maleness to sneak out for a second. "But, you'd like her dad," Dean started. "She's got a great personality." John smiled.

"Maybe bring her to Thanksgiving or something," John suggested.

"Yeah, I know she asked me to meet her family over one of our holiday breaks and she knows that I come home for breaks, so yeah, maybe we can work something out because I told her I had to be home for the holidays."

"Where does her family live?"

"Believe it or not Minneapolis," Dean said with an amused grin.

"Well, there ya go," John said with a smile.

"It's about six hours driving from here to there, you can commute no problem."

"Yeah, I could." Dean agreed. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed a day or two there?"

"Dean, whether we eat turkey on Thanksgiving or the day after makes no difference. As long as I am with both my boys at some point then all's good." John dropped a hand onto his son's shoulder as they stopped to look out at the pond on Jim's property. Dean leaned into his father's touch.

**One Year Later, Interstate outside Minneapolis, August 2000**

"So," Julie glanced over to Dean as the Impala rumbled down the highway. "You really going to do the whole 'ask my dad for permission thing'? I mean I already said 'yes' sweetie and my parents love you. They love your family, too. And, speaking of family, you tell them about the engagement yet?" Dean turned his eyes briefly from the road and met Julie's eyes quickly and looked back to his driving with a smile.

"No, not yet. I want to do it in person, so I'll tell them when I drive down from your parents."

"It's not like there's a hurry," Julie replied. "After all, we decided it would be better to wait until after graduation and we get jobs."

"Yeah, well, you finish up sooner than me," Dean replied.

"Two months," Julie countered. "And, I'll be studying for the BAR exam anyway, but it's not until next year anyway."

"You decide which ones you were going to set for?"

"Well, I'm thinking I'm going to focus first on Minnesota since you want to be close to your family and Sam."

"You sure you're okay with me wanting to be within commuting distance once we graduate? I want you to be happy Jules, but I have to be around my family."

"Dean, I love your family. My family loves your family, too. I was so happy they were able to meet during the holidays last year. My mom went absolutely crazy at that Christmas festival in Blue Earth and all of the antiquing she was able to do. My Dad likes your Dad a lot and Jim and my Dad could talk politics until the end of time." Dean rolled his eyes. "If I didn't want to move back to Minnesota after graduation for the wedding then I wouldn't. Anyway, have you ever seen me do anything I didn't want to do?"

"Nah, you have a point."

**Two Days Later, Blue Earth, Jim's House**

Dean pulled up the familiar driveway and smiled at all of the flowers lining the driveway and the trees in full bloom that shaded the driveway. Dean spotted his father outside with his head under the hood of his truck. John leaned out when he heard the sound of an engine he'd know anywhere. Dean got out of the car and waved at his father. "Hey Dad," he said with a smile. He looked around, but saw no sight of his brother or Jim.

"Hey son, how was the drive?" John hugged his firstborn.

"Traffic was good."

"And, how's Julie?"

"At her mom and dad's."

"You have a good visit with them?"

"Yeah, real good," Dean said with a glint in his eye. John didn't miss it.

"What's up?"

"Huh?" Dean feigned ignorance.

"Don't huh, me," John commented. "You look like the cat that ate the canary." John smiled.

"Where's Sammy and Jim?"

"You're changing the subject and rather poorly I might add," John countered. He sighed. "Jim had an errand to run in town and had to stop by the church for a little bit. Sammy wanted to go, so he took him. Now spill."

"I … I, uh…" Dean suddenly felt at a loss for words. John studied his son's face. He could tell that Dean was happy and nothing was wrong. Dean took a calming breath. "I asked Jules to marry me and she said yes." John stood dumbfounded as he looked at his twenty-one year old son.

"Engaged? You're engaged?" John looked at his son.

"We haven't set a date yet, but we know it'll be after graduation sometime." John smiled and pulled his son into a hug.

"I'm happy for you son. She's a good egg. I like her."

"I know you're probably thinking we're a little young Dad, but I love her and we've together almost two years."

"Dean, you don't have to sell me on her. I know you two kids have good head's on your shoulders. I think it's great. Was her family happy?"

"Yeah, her parents both gave us their blessing."

Dean and John sat on the porch talking when Jim's ever familiar Subaru turned into the long driveway. Jim parked and Dean could see Sam waving excitedly from his seat as he undid his seat belt. He opened the door and folded out of the passenger seat and stood at his current height of 6'1". "Are you kidding me?" Dean said under his breath to his Dad as he waved at his brother. John chuckled.

"Yeah, he's turned into a bit of a bean stalk the last couple months or so while you've been at school and that partial summer internship.

"A bit?" Dean turned wide-eyes to his father. "What is he now?"

"His last medical exam a couple weeks ago said 6'1" and I'm pretty sure he isn't done yet. Dr. Odden thinks he'll get at least another two to four inches before he stops."

"Dean!" Sam yelled in excitement.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said with a smile. His little brother stepped up onto the porch and his eyes were only slightly above his older brothers now. Sam wrapped his arms around his sibling.

"Where Jjj…Julie," Sam said as he stepped back from his brother.

"She's visiting with her parents Sammy and doing some work up where her family lives."

"You staying?" Sam's voice was tentative. "You not here a lot of summer like before."

"I know kiddo," Dean lamented. "But, remember I told you I was able to do some work near school that I really wanted to do and it was in June and July. I'm here now."

"I'm glad." Sam smiled. "Dad, look!" Sam bubbled as he opened a bag. "Uncle Jim bought me a comic book. Sam displayed _Superman_ in front of his father. "Uncle Jim says he flies and is faster than a bbb…bullet."

"We'll read it tonight Sammy before you go to bed, okay?" John smiled.

"I read myself," Sam's voice determined.

"Okay, Sammy," John spoke softly. "If you change your mind let me know."

"Hi Dean," Jim stepped up and embraced Dean in a warm hug. "It's good to see you young man. How are things?"

"Good, real good," Dean smiled. Jim shifted from Dean to John and knew there was some pleasant secret yet to be told.

"You going to fill me in on those Cheshire cat grins on both your faces?"

"What that mean?" Sam scrunched his face at Jim.

"What _does_ that mean Samuel," Jim restated. "Try that again."

"What does that mean?" Sam spoke slowly.

"It just means your brother and father are keeping some kind of news to themselves, a secret, but it looks like good news."

"What secret? Tell," Sam looked at his family with a frown.

"Julie and I are engaged Sammy … that means we plan on getting married."

"Married? Like Mommy and Dad were? Like Julie's ppp…parents?"

"Yeah, Sammy like that." Dean agreed. Jim smiled.

"That's fantastic Dean," Jim congratulated. "You set the date yet?"

"Nah, it'll be after graduation though." Sam was quiet.

"Sammy you okay?" Dean asked as he noticed his sibling's sudden quietness.

"I not see you anymore," Sammy lamented. "You marry and go away. Not come back."

"No way Sammy!" Dean answered quickly trying to assure his younger sibling he wasn't being abandoned or forgotten. "I'm going to live nearby, I promise. It'll just be a quick drive."

"Ppp…promise?"

"I promise kiddo. You're not getting rid of your big brother that easily."

Sam smiled. "Good."

**Ten Months Later, MIT Campus, Graduation Day, May 10, 2001**

"I'm proud of you son," John hugged his eldest child. "What you've accomplished is amazing. I wouldn't give this experience up for the world watching you accept your degree and the award of academic merit."

"Thanks Dad." Father and son had taken a walk by themselves while Jim, Sam and Julie visited across campus. Julie had graduated from her university two months prior and was almost ready for the BAR exam she intended to take for Minnesota.

"So, I know you mentioned you'd already received three job offers with engineering firms, decide on anything yet?" Dean grinned. "What?"

"I only told you about three Dad there were a hell of a lot more than that, but I didn't want them because they weren't in Minnesota. I accepted one with BioTech they have a satellite office in Mankato it's about a thirty mile commute from Blue Earth. Their major branch is in Minneapolis and they are flying me into the city on Mondays and Thursdays for branch meetings and some other technical work that can only happen in Minneapolis. I don't have to start for three months though."

"BioTech is a great company son," John clapped him on the back. "I was just reading a piece on them in the business section of last week's paper. They payin' you what you're worth?" Dean chuckled.

"It's pretty decent change Dad," Dean commented lightly. Dean could see his father's expectant eyes. "Well, aside from an awesome fringe benefit package and health benefits," Dean laughed to himself. "Who would have ever thought I'd be talking about fringe benefits and health insurance?"

John saw the irony in what his son was saying and thinking back to before Sam's accident and the way Dean was it was ironic. "And?" John urged.

"$80,000 to start dad, but after a year it's likely to go up another ten grand maybe more." John blanched at the money figure his son just quoted him.

"Man, it must be embarrassing admitting your old Dad is a mechanic, huh?" John dropped his son's gaze for a moment. Dean frowned.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Dean admonished. "Dad, you've been awesome and I'm lucky to have you … I mean it," Dean asserted making sure his father believed him because it was true. John's eyes misted.

"I love you son," John said quietly and gruffly as he pulled his child into another hug. "Now, all that's left is for you marry that girl of yours."

"We're workin' on it Dad. She wants to take the BAR first and then do the whole wedding planning thing."

"So, you're staying in Massachusetts for a while?"

"Yeah, we co-opted a lease from a guy in my class, so we're finishing off his end of the lease. It's a nice little place. A one-bedroom furnished apartment with a small den, and I mean small, it's more like a closet, but the place is quiet and will be fine for the two months she needs to do paperwork and take the BAR. She'll fly into in Minneapolis to sit for that one, but we both were able to pick up some summer jobs. I'm actually doing a summer institute gig at _MIT_ for the 'Young Engineers of America' there high school students who are taking engineering career classes at their schools and one spots for a summer internship. It's pretty competitive and I'm actually doing a class on Thermal Dynamics." John just shook his head and smiled.

"How long?"

"Four weeks and they get to live in the residential halls that are empty of summer term and then I'm going to get to kick back and relax. I'm sure I'll fly in for a visit or two because Jules and I want to find a place in Blue Earth to live."

"Dean you can live near your work you know," John offered.

"I know, but even Julie wants to live in Blue Earth. She says it homey and a good place to raise a family." Dean saw his father's inquisitive look. "I know," Dean resigned. "But, don't say it."

"I'm not saying a word kiddo," John said with a knowing smile. "Well, we better go track down that brood of ours. It's hard telling what Sammy's gotten himself into."

"He's a lot better Dad. I mean he seems to listen better now ya know?"

"I know, but he gets bored pretty quick sometimes and Jim is a patient as the day is long, but even that man has his limits and with all the new activities going on and new people and sights Sam is probably jumping around like a ping pong ball." Dean grinned.

"Yeah, you may have a point, but I bet Jules has him under control he's like putty in her hands and she loves the kid."

"I know," John agreed. "They do get along well don't they," he asserted. "Come on," John dropped an arm across his son's shoulders and they began to walk back toward the graduation crowds and went to locate their wayward family members.

**One Month Later, June 2001, Blue Earth **

"Sammy," John started as he drove his truck through Blue Earth. "How bout we order pizza from Mama Mia's tonight?"

"Yeah," he answered with excitement.

"So, how was school today?"

"Ggg…good," Sam answered. "It strange being on the big kid side of school." John understood what his youngest was saying. The children at _Minds in Motion_ were moved to another side of the academy when they turned eighteen. For the students that could manage special education school work were working toward what the state considered a high school diploma and Sam was in those classes although he had a lot of trouble and John guessed that Sam would transfer to the _Drake Academy_ next fall in 2002 following his nineteenth birthday. _Minds in Motion_ only taught up to age eighteen and then those students would matriculate to Drake. He had already started preparing Sam for that transition and the school was also preparing their students who would transfer to Drake.

Drake was another special education school that was designed for young adults to adults with special needs. Sam seemed to take the impending move in his strides since he knew some of his friends would be moving to that school. John knew it may be some time before Sam ever really qualified for a diploma maybe another couple years or longer, but the kid was always surprising him and he'd just take things as they came. Sam still couldn't seem to move beyond a fourth or fifth grade level in math, but his reading skills were a little better and he was now reading at a seventh grade level although he still needed some words or concepts explained to him. His handwriting was getting better, but John still likened it to Egyptian hieroglyphics. He smiled to himself as that analogy crossed his mind.

"Dad when Dean going to come back?"

"The end of next month Sammy," John answered. "But, Dean and Julie will be here for the fourth of July festival and they are going to find a place to rent."

"What rent mean?"

"It just means that Dean and Julie are going to live in their own place Sammy, but they have to pay to live there … it's called rent." Sam looked at his father and John knew it wasn't exactly getting through to his child. "You know how Dad and Uncle Jim gets bills in the mail and we have to pay them?" Sam smiled and nodded.

"The bbb…bloodsuckers? Cause they want money." Sam replied innocently. John laughed out loud. He had forgotten that both he and Jim referred to bills as coming from the bloodsuckers.

"Yes, Sammy, the bloodsuckers. Anyway, rent is kinda like a bill that's all. Okay?" Sam's face dimpled and he nodded.

"Why they no live at home with us?"

"Because they need their privacy Sammy," John answered. "You know what I mean … there own space. Like you have in the barn on Uncle Jim's property and when you're there you like to be by yourself or with Duncan." Sam nodded. That had been another thing John had to get used to with his youngest. When Sam first started hiding out in the barn after a bad school day or when he was just upset about something his fractured mind couldn't grasp he'd go to the barn and sit on old straw and watch the pond in the distance. Sam still wasn't allowed to go to the pond by himself and still hadn't learned to swim. The therapist had said Sam's coordination was the problem. His mind wanted to move one side at times while the other was slow to respond. They would keep working on it, but for the time being whenever Sam was in water or on it he had to wear a jacket.

It was still an adjustment even after all this time. He looked at his son and saw an eighteen year old young man who now surpassed him in height and had finally seemed to level off at 6'4" but his son's mind was a contradiction to his outward appearance and sometimes it still seemed hard to reconcile the two opposites.

"Dad I hear a joke at school today … wanna hear?"

"Sure Sammy," John commented as he came to a stop a red light at the main intersection of town putting on his left turn signal headed toward Jim's house off the major route.

"Why six afraid of seven?" John looked at the red light and then at his son.

"No idea? Why is six afraid of seven?" Sam had a big grin on his face as he looked at his father.

"Cause seven ate nine," Sam giggled loudly. John smirked as the meaning went off like a joke grenade for him … ate as in eight … seven (eight) nine. John chuckled.

"Good one Sammy."

"It funny."

"Yeah, kiddo it was," John smiled warmly at his child.

The light turned green and John went to make the turn still smiling about his son's joke. The world inside John's truck suddenly shattered in a rain of glass and the cacophonous sound of crushing metal and then all was silent.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

The intersection was a bevy of activity with flashing lights with ambulances and police cruisers. The fire department was putting away the Jaws of Life. John's truck looked like a crushed Dixie cup. The left side was crushed inward and the front end was pushed against the dash. It resembled a piece of modern art and not an automobile. The large dump truck that had caused the accident had blown the red light from the oncoming traffic light. He had never slowed down as he struck at speeds the police were estimating at over fifty miles an hour. The dump truck was dripping oil and anti-freeze as the engine sent up white billows of radiator smoke. The driver was being taken to the hospital for mild injuries.

A group of paramedics worked on John and Sam at the scene. The hospital was only five minutes away by ambulance. "Mark, how's yours?"

"Unresponsive, gonna intubate, right pupil is blown and the left is sluggish, significant signs of blunt force trauma to head and chest. Probably some fractures from what I can see. How about yours, Amanda?"

"Bad shape. Pupils are fixed and dilated. I already intubated. His blood pressure is bottoming out, we gotta roll now or he's gonna code. Suspected significant head trauma."

The paramedics with their respective partners had deftly back boarded both John and Sam and both Winchester's heads were braced against the boards and neck braces protected their cervical spines. Both ambulances back doors were open as each set of medical workers rolled their patients into each ambulance. Their back doors faced each other. "Dammit! Lost his pulse. Start compressions. Come on let's roll!" Mark heard Amanda shout to her partner across at the other ambulance. Mark turned his attention back to his patient and started another IV with fluids wide open nodding at his partner to close up the doors and start for the emergency room. Both ambulances pulled away with sirens blaring.

Blue Earth Medical Center had been alerted to the incoming trauma cases. "What we got comin'?" Dr. Odden asked.

"Hey Kirk, thanks for fillin' in today," Doctor Reyes spoke evenly. "Paramedics said it was a high speed impact. Dump truck versus pick-up. Two victims. Father and son. Both are in bad shape. Multiple traumatic injuries and suspected head traumas. You can run one trauma and I'll take the other."

"Yeah, no problem, Jerry." Dr. Odden answered casually. "Father and son, huh?"

"Yeah, the police faxed over their ID's. Ah," he looked for the faxed paper work. "John Winchester, age 47 and state ID for Samuel Winchester, age 18."

"Oh God," Dr. Odden responded sharply.

"You know them?"

"I'm Sam's doctor. He's in my brain injury and rehab program."

"Man, tough break. You okay to handle the case?"

"Yeah," Kirk Odden replied honestly.

"Dr. Reyes," a nurse monitoring the transmissions from the ambulances turned and spoke. "ETA three minutes"

"Okay, we'll be ready. Any new reports?"

"Unclear which patient because the transmission is pretty fuzzy," she answered. "But, CPR is in progress on one and the other is bottoming out fast and is in respiratory arrest."

Both doctors looked at each other and the trauma teams stood at the ready.

**To Be Continued**

**I know, I know … but I had to end the chapter somewhere. I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thanks again for reading, I appreciate it!!**


	9. The First Cut is the Deepest

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: Warning: **major character death in this chapter. This is a bulky chapter around 53 pages, so enjoy! I hope.

**Side Note:** Title of this chapter is taken from the Sheryl Crow song by the same title. Also, the term ACLS stands for two things, depending on use: 1. acute care life support or 2. Advanced cardiac life support (pertains to cardiac stimulating drugs used during resuscitations) both indicate intense medical treatment/intervention is in use.

**Chapter Nine**

**The First Cut is the Deepest**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Who can say for certain, maybe you're still here, I feel you all around me, your memory so clear. Deep in the stillness I can hear you speak … I cherish all you gave me, everyday …"_ Excerpt by Josh Groban, _To Where You Are_

**Twenty-minutes later, the Blue Earth Medical Center Emergency Room**

"He's back in sinus rhythm," Dr. Reyes called out. "Now, if he'd just maintain that rhythm. He needs a stat MRI, now!"

"Is he stable enough for transport?" a young intern asked.

"No, but we have no choice. The head injury is bad. Pupils are fixed and dilated. I gotta see what's going on in there. If he codes again we'll deal with it in the MRI … have a crash cart ready with ACLS."

"Pretty messed up, huh? That damn truck driver isn't even hurt."

"No, but the police are detaining him … turns out his blood alcohol was .13 he went and got tanked after work while still driving a work vehicle." The doctor and his intern shook their heads sadly. "Damn shame," Dr. Reyes said as he looked at his patient before following the staff out the door to the MRI lab.

**Meanwhile, the Second Trauma Room**

The trauma room was a flurry of activity. A layperson walking in would be horrified at the rib spreaders dipping into the lifeless body lying prone on the gurney.

"Increase fluid volume. I want the IV's wide open. Damn blunt force trauma. Aortic involvement. Hang another unit of O Neg, on the rapid infuser, now!"

"We're pumping it in … he's just losing volume quicker than we can replace it." Doctor Odden's intern answered. "I'm continuing with open cardiac massage." Dr. Odden nodded to his intern. He glanced at the young intern as he reached in and began to manually massage the heart of his patient.

"Dammit!" Dr. Odden barked. "I gotta cross clamp the aorta, but I can't get a fix on the damn tear…" the doctor felt around with a gloved hand. "Found it! Cross clamping. Call OR and have cardiology on alert. We're bringing a redline trauma patient up. Damn, call every one … Orthopedics, too. We've got a severe femoral fracture that's going to require surgery."

"They're ready and waiting," a nurse called out. "Also Neurology is on stand-by."

"Got a weak pulse back," the intern answered as the heart in his hands began to beat weakly in his hand as he released it."

"What's his rate?" Dr. Odden barked as he worked feverishly to suture some other bleeders inside the chest.

"Forty-eight."

"Push a bolus of Lidocaine and Epi," he commanded. "Let's roll! Keep ventilating him. I don't want his oxygen numbers dropping below 90, got it?" The staff nodded as they placed a sterile plastic cover over the open chest and left the room urgently with their patient's life hanging by a thread.

**Two Hours Later, the Hospital**

"Beverly," Dr. Odden ran a hand over his tired eyes. "Can you pull up the number for St. Mary's church; please … I need to make a call to a friend."

"Pastor Jim's church?" she questioned.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I go to St. Mary's," she replied. "What's wrong?"

"Those two trauma cases that came in earlier … they're his family."

"Oh, No," she said with her hand instinctively covering her mouth in shock. "Here it is," she scribbled it on a Post-it note.

"Thanks. Do you know where Dr. Reyes is? He was treating one of them." Her face darkened.

"The ICU." Dr. Odden frowned.

"No surgery?" She shook her head sadly.

"No, I heard the MRI wasn't good." Dr. Odden felt sick to his stomach. This family had endured so much and had been so strong and now two lives were in danger of being lost and by the sounds of it one life was basically lost already and he still had no idea of what was happening in the OR.

"I'll go get some info and then I'll call Jim."

**The ICU, twenty-minutes later**

"You're sure? No doubts?" Kirk Odden clarified with his friend and colleague.

"Kirk I know this is hard for you and I'm sorry," Jerry Reyes answered. "But, the MRI was conclusive and I even had the Chief of Neuro Surgery consult for a second opinion. The damage is total. There are no higher brain functions showing on the EEG. There are five skull fractures and one is a crush injury to the brain. The bleeding was so pronounced that the pressure actually shifted the brain midline. He was basically dead on impact Kirk, it's just taking his body a little longer to figure it out. We've got him on life support until the family has a chance to see him. His rhythm is unstable but we seem to be keeping control of it. I just want them to be able to say goodbye and then get permission to terminate life support."

"Sonofabitch," Kirk hissed as he looked at the patient lying lifeless in the bed hooked to tubes and machines.

"How's yours doing?"

"In surgery. Had to crack his chest in the ER … aortic bleed. Heart stopped and wouldn't fill with blood. I had to cross clamp the aorta and we got a rhythm back, weak but at least he had a palpable pulse when we got him to the OR."

"What about head injuries?"

"The portable CAT scan showed swelling and a possible area of bleeding, but I had to get his heart filling and beating again …"

"Hey man, I know. Look you got him to the OR alive. You gave him a chance."

"Yeah," Kirk nodded. "I gotta call a friend and tell him what happened. Jesus, this is so screwed up."

"I know."

**Four Hours Later, the ICU**

"Jim is there anything I can do for you?" Kirk Odden asked quietly as he stepped into the ICU room. Jim looked up. His eyes were tired and agonized.

"Have you heard from the OR yet?"

"No, not yet. I just know they have him on bypass while they operate. I know they called in neurology to evacuate some blood from his brain."

"But, he's alive," Jim asked again.

"Jim, he's fighting, but I'm not going to lie to you … there is a chance when they take him off bypass that his heart may need help starting again and there is a chance he might not be able to be resuscitated, but for now bypass is doing the work of his heart and lungs."

Jim's eyes shifted back the bed and he placed a hand on his loved one's arm. "I gotta call Dean," Jim said suddenly. "He needs to be here. This isn't my decision to make," he said indicating the machines and implying what the doctors had told him about life support being terminated because there was no brain activity and that the trauma was unrecoverable. Kirk Odden nodded.

"Whatever you need to do Jim. They'll do their best to keep him going, but…"

"I know," Jim understood that it was a losing battle as the broken body was slowly letting go. "Dean needs to say goodbye … please, just do everything you have to," Jim's voice broke with emotion and his eyes filled with tears.

"We will Jim."

**Meanwhile, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Dean and Julie's Apartment**

Julie grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands as the phone rang. She grabbed it on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Julie? It's Jim."

"Hi Jim, how are you? It's nice to hear from you … unexpected but nice."

"Julie is Dean there? I need to speak to him." There was a shake to Jim's tone of voice that immediately alerted Julie's sixth sense.

"Dean left a little bit ago to run an errand. He doesn't have his cell with him, but he should be back in ten minutes or so. What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"Julie there's been a car accident … John and Sam … it's …" Jim voice trailed off and he took a breath. Julie clutched the phone. "It's bad. He needs to come home on the first flight he can get on."

"Jim, how bad are they hurt?" Julie felt hot tears spring to her eyes. This was her family, too. She and Dean weren't married yet, but John, Sam and Jim were part of her family now.

"It's very bad Julie … I can't …"

"No, Jim, it's okay. Listen to me; I'll get us the first flight we can get on. We'll be there soon."

"They're at Blue Earth Medical Center, Julie. Call and let me know about the flight, okay? You and Dean need to hurry."

"I'll call the airlines as soon as we hang up. See you soon. Jim, give our love to them." Jim closed his eyes in anguish secretly glad the young woman about to marry Dean couldn't see his face and the silent tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Talk to you then. God bless."

"You too Jim, bye."

**Thirty Minutes Later, the Apartment**

"Jules, I'm back. Sorry I'm late, but traffic was a bitch…" his voice trailed off as he walked through the small apartment and saw Julie hurrying around throwing clothes into two separate bags. "Jules? What are you doing?"

"We're on a flight in two hours to Blue Earth. The tickets will be waiting at the American Airlines reservations desk for us." A flash of alarm crossed Dean's face.

"What? Why? What's wrong … did something happen to Sammy?" Dean felt the bile creep up in his throat. Julie stopped packing for a moment.

"Honey, Jim called … he said there's been a car accident and your dad and Sam were hurt. He said it was bad and that you had to get there as soon as possible."

"How bad?" Dean barked. "What else did he say? Are they in surgery? What?!"

"I don't know Dean. He wouldn't say. He just said it's very bad and that you needed to be on the first flight we could get out of Massachusetts. I've already called him and told him our plane lands at 9:00 PM tonight." Dean began throwing things into his bag without another word. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"Come on let's go."

**Two Days Later, the ICU**

Dean's hand shook as he signed the forms on the clipboard from Dr. Reyes. Jim placed a comforting hand on Dean's knee. "I want some time before…" Dean had had two days of hoping the doctors were wrong, but he knew it was futile … it was time to let him go.

"Of course, I'll be back when you're …" he left it unfinished knowing that despite the fact Dean had signed the papers he would never be truly ready or prepared to let his loved one go. Dean nodded tightly. He had been separating his time the last two days between to horrible nightmares. He'd walk from one ICU room to another to see his father and brother. They were only two rooms apart in the unit. Julie was splitting her time between managing things at Jim's and the hospital. She and Dean took turns sitting with John or Sam. Dean didn't want either of them to be alone.

Dean's tears ran unchecked down his face after the doctor left pulling the curtain for privacy. "Jim … I …"

"Shh, Dean, you did the right thing."

"Will you do it?" Dean's voice shook. Jim looked at Dean a bit confused.

"Do what?"

"Say a prayer or something … Last Rites, I don't care … it's just …" Jim placed his arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Dean, you're not alone in this," Jim comforted. Dean looked into Jim's caring gaze and believed him. It was true. Jim was losing a loved one tonight while another still clung to life, barely. "Of course, I will." Jim stood up and looked down onto the familiar face. He placed his hand gently on the cool forehead. "Oh Heavenly Father, let your perpetual light shine upon your servant as he crosses over to your kingdom. Grant him your mercy and welcome him home. Forgive him any trespasses. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend that his soul may be awakened to the world beyond. Amen." Dean's choked sob was muffled as he leaned forward burying his face into his father's chest that rose and fell mechanically.

"Dad, I'm sorry, so sorry," he whispered.

"Dean," Jim spoke softly. "You've done nothing to be sorry for. Your father wouldn't want to live on machines. He'd want you to let him go. It would have been incredibly hard for him, but he would have done the same for you or Sammy. "I'll leave you alone with your dad." Jim turned to leave and stopped. He walked back to John's bedside. "I'll keep an eye on the boys John. I'll miss you old friend." He dropped his hand gently onto John's head and allowed his friend's dark hair to slip in and out of his grasp. "Rest well my friend," he said quietly to John's ear. "Be at peace." He leaned in and kissed his long time friend's forehead. "I'll be outside waiting." Dean nodded.

"Dad," Dean's voice broke. He looked at his father whose face was bruised and scraped from glass and metal striking it in the wreck. There was a pale yellow plastic mouth piece covering his mouth as it held the ventilator tubing in place. His father's body was broken. There were bones that had broken in the wreck, but were simply splinted when the MRI had shown the devastating brain injury and it was plain that John would not recover. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you. Sammy's hanging on, but …" Dean pulled his father's hand up to his cheek and held it there. "Dad, I can't lose both of you. He's bad Dad … Sammy's in bad shape …" Dean's face crumbled into a sob. "I don't know what to do."

John stood in the corner of the room leaning with his back against the wall. He watched his eldest grieve for him and worry for his little brother that clung to life two doors down. "You have to be strong Dean," John spoke. Dean continued to watch his father and hold his hand.

"I know you'd probably say … I need to be strong Dad, if you could, but…" John smiled.

"No buts kiddo," John said lightly as he pushed himself off the wall and went to stand by his son and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. Dean felt a moment of calmness fill him in the middle of the chaos that had claimed his life over two days ago. "You gotta let me go Dean. It's time. I'm going to miss you boys so much," John said as he looked at his son. "I'm so proud of you Dean and I'm glad we had your graduation. Just be strong and I'll always be with you when you need me, but you have to let me go. Sammy needs his big brother now."

"I'm gonna miss you so much Dad," Dean lamented. He stood up and leaned over his father. He rested his cheek against his father's hair and closed his eyes. "I love you," he whispered with silent tears spilling down his cheeks. "So much … always know that."

"I do," John smiled warmly at his son. "It's time Dean."

Dean kissed his father's forehead and took a steadying breath and pushed the curtain aside to get the doctor and Jim. It was time to turn the machines off and let his father go. John left the room and walked to Sam's room.

**Meanwhile, Sam's ICU room**

"I have to hurry Sammy," John looked down on his broken child. "Listen to me sport. You have to fight hard, okay? You've got a fight ahead of you, but you can't give up. If you feel yourself slipping Sammy you have to fight … fight for your brother," John encouraged. He had no say in whether his son would survive … the whole being a spirit; out of body experience was new to him. John felt death nearby and knew it was waiting for him and possibly his baby boy, too. "You fight Sammy with all your worth and then some. I love you kiddo … I always have and I always will. I'm with you always Sammy, always," John's voice choked. John felt a pull deep in his chest. It wasn't uncomfortable; in fact it felt warm and gentle, but insistent. He leaned down and kissed his son. "Love you," and he felt himself encompassed in a warm light and the life he had known passed away.

April looked around the room for a moment having felt the barest hint of a warm breeze and then returned her attention to Sam's prone body.

**Meanwhile, John's Room**

The room was silent. The tubes and monitors had been removed. All was silent. Time of death had been called. Dean sat at his father's side still holding his hand just as he did when everything had been disconnected and removed. In the end, there was no pain, no tremble, just peace. "I gotta go be with Sammy now Dad," Dean spoke quietly. He stood up still keeping contact with his dad's hand and leaned in and whispered to his father one last time, "love you … rest well Dad." Dean kissed his father's forehead one final time feeling the coolness that had already begun to creep in with the absence of a beating heart.

"I'm going to stay for a few more minutes Dean," Jim spoke in hushed tones. "I'll make the necessary phone calls." Dean turned thankful eyes toward Jim and nodded. "Go be with your brother."

**Four Days Later, the ICU**

Dean had hated to leave Sam for the three hours he had been gone but today was their father's memorial service and burial. Julie's parents had driven down for the service and many friends and colleagues of John's showed for the memorial. Julie knew about hunting he had told her what his family had done before Sam was hurt. He had told her about the demon that had come to their family and killed their mother. She had had trouble believing it, but when he had shown her some things she believed. Her parents had no clue and she intended on keeping it that way.

The service had been conducted by Jim at St. Mary's Church. The coffin was closed and bore the US flag on it out of respect for John's service as a Marine. Dean recalled looking at the coffin Jim had picked out … it was slate grey with brushed nickel handles. It wasn't very ornamental … ornamental wasn't his dad's taste and Jim knew that. It was subtle and distinguished looking. His Dad would have approved. There was a blown up casual family snapshot with John standing in the middle of his two boys that stood near the coffin and it made Dean's chest ache. The burial was at the adjacent cemetery next to the church. It was quiet with its rolling green hills dotted with granite and marble headstones. There were patches of color all over from flowers both planted for landscaping and also those left by loved ones at various stones. Jim had chosen a plot near an old Oak tree that overlooked a portion of the cemetery from a hill. Although, it wasn't standard Jim had pulled a favor with a friend that designed the headstone and had it delivered and waiting at the burial site the day his father was buried. It was multi-colored granite of grey and black with small flecks of white and gold very subtle. Dean had noticed the small gold insignia for the Marines on his father's stone. Jim had chosen the wording, as well and he approved of what Jim had had his friend inscribe in the stone for his father:

John E. Winchester

1954-2001

_Loving Husband, Father and Friend_

_Remembered Forever_

Dean had thought the spot suited his father. He was thankful that Jim had taken to handling all of the arrangements and even now Jim and Julie were back at the house hosting a gathering for friends. Dean needed to be with his brother.

He sat at his brother's bedside as he always did. His mind still replayed the devastating injury list: _aortic tear, multiple vascular bleeds, brain hematoma and swelling that had required neuro surgery to evacuate the blood, severe contusions to the heart and lungs, mild contusions to the liver and kidneys, severely bruised ribs, a fractured left femur that had required a steel rod and screws to repair, _among other injuries.

"Sammy? Hey kiddo, it's me," Dean spoke softly. He looked at Sam's bruised and scratched face. He had one hell of a shiner that looked like he'd been on the losing side of a bout with Mike Tyson. There was a small patch bandage on his left temple from where the neurologist went in to drain the blood on his brain. His long hair covered some of the bandage. Dean still had trouble with his brother's chest. He had watched the nurse clean the chest wound every day. There was a long gauze strip that ran from the top of his brother's sternum to just below the rib cage. Beneath the strip were surgical staples that were used to close the outer skin of his little brother's chest when they had cracked his chest in the ER to save his life. The nurse had told him that the internal sutures would dissolve as the chest tissue healed, but the staples would be removed in a few days. Sam's sternum had been wired together, as well. It made Dean's gut clench when he thought about how Dr. Odden had used a sternum saw on his brother's chest to gain access to his heart to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry, I had to leave you little brother, but I had some place to be and I couldn't be here," Dean reached up and ran his hand gently through his brother's hair. Sam was pale and lifeless and if it weren't for the machines indicating there was life Dean would doubt his brother was alive. "You hear me Sammy?" Dean encouraged reaching down and picking up his siblings hand and squeezed. "Come on, please," he begged. "Move a finger or something kiddo, anything to let me know you're still here." Dean watched and waited, but nothing happened.

**Three Days Later, the ICU**

Dean and Jim walked into the ICU to relieve Julie. It had been a long morning at the lawyer's office handling John's last will and testament and there had been paperwork to handle. Dean had initially bristled at one of his father's requests in his will but he understood his father really had Sam's best interest at heart concerning guardianship and Dean accepted his father's wishes. John's will had been methodically done by his father with Jim's lawyer only a few months before his death. Dean's mind went back to the reading of the will. Jim's friend and lawyer read John's will aloud to both men:

_I, John Edward Winchester being of sound mind and body hereby make my wishes known and acknowledge this is my Last Will and Testament. To My son Dean, I leave all my worldly possessions and half of my life insurance policy. In regard to my son Samuel Winchester ( adult dependant), and his continued care and living arrangements I request that Jim Murphy act as guardian for my son until my oldest son reaches the age of twenty-five and at that point sole guardianship should revert over to my oldest son, Dean Winchester. I request that both Jim Murphy and Dean Winchester share in decisions for my son Samuel Winchester in regard to his health and well-being. _

_I would prefer that Sam remain with his current living arrangements at 114 Route 12, Blue Earth, Minnesota unless there is some difficulty or other happenstance that requires him to be moved from his home. I also request that the second portion of my life insurance policy be held in trust for my son Sam and that those funds be managed by Jim Murphy and Dean Winchester in unison. I would like the funds used for his rehab and additional learning opportunities that the state does not cover fully or at all. It is my strong desire that my youngest son's disabilities not define him in life and that he is given every opportunity to thrive in what ever way he is capable. In the event, that Sam's guardian Jim Murphy should die before my son Dean Winchester reaches the age of twenty-five I wish that Sam's care at that point be given fully to is older brother and that any money held in trust for Sam be fully accessible to my son Dean Winchester as Sam's acting guardian and caregiver. _

_My son's have been my greatest joy and gift in life and it my hope that they are both provided for and that life embrace them always._

_John E. Winchester_

The lawyer had stated that John had taken out a $500,000 dollar life insurance policy over two years ago but because his death was accidental it came with the addendum that in the event of accidental death the policy amount would be doubled. Dean had been staggered by the realization that his father had essentially left him and his little brother $1,000,000 dollars. He would gladly give it all back if it would give him back his father. There were wrongful death charges pending litigation, as well over the drunken driver who was currently being held without bond at the local jail and the company the man worked for was offering to pay for damages with a monetary amount. Dean was thankful that Jim was taking care of that end of things. He needed to focus on Sammy; his brother was all that mattered right now.

As Dean walked into the ICU he saw Julie first and knew that something was wrong. She stood outside Sam's room near the nurse's station. Dean could hear alarms sounding from his brother's room, but the curtain was pulled and he couldn't see.

"Julie," Dean's voice was harsh and worried. "What's wrong with Sammy?" Julie looked at her fiancée with tear filled eyes.

"It was quiet," her voice shook. "And, then all of a sudden the heart monitor went off. His heart stopped," she choked back tears. Dean stared at the pulled curtain with agonized eyes.

"How long ago?" the strength of Jim's voice belied his real emotions as he joined the conversation.

"Ten minutes," Julie lamented. Dean turned numbly as if on auto pilot and walked out of the ICU. Julie watched with a stricken expression. Jim was torn … should he follow Dean who he was sure was convinced he had just lost the last of his family or stay. There was a quiet voice in Jim's head telling him to stay where he was and that Dean would be fine.

**Five Minutes Later, the Hospital Chapel**

Dean entered the room with a purpose. There was something inside him that literally screamed he needed to be there. He wasn't overly religious, although he did have faith in something, and he'd do anything for Sam. The chapel was empty. Candles flickered near the front of the chapel from a bronze case filled with red glass votives. He knew each candle represented a prayer left by someone for a loved one. He approached and grabbed a stick lighting a candle for his little brother and sat down in the front pew of the small chapel.

"Look I know I've never been much of the prayin' type," his voice shook with emotion. He took in a long shuddering breath to calm himself. "But, you took my Mom, and my Dad… you can't take Sammy, too. He's just a kid. He's only eighteen. You've tested my family so much and Sam," he stuttered. "He lost so much in that lake under the ice," tears cascaded down his face. "My family lost something that day, but we got a new Sammy in return and I'm thankful, I am," Dean asserted. "But, this … you have to cut this family a break. I've heard you're not supposed to beg, but I'm begging you … please don't take my brother. He's my family, please …" Dean lowered his head. "You gotta save him. I buried my dad three days ago don't make me bury my little brother, too. Please…" Dean's voice trailed off and the tears came.

A few minutes later a hand on his shoulder made him jerk his head upward. He met eyes with Jim as the man sat down next to him. Jim crossed himself as he looked at the altar up front. Dean looked at him but said nothing. "I thought I might find you here," Jim's voice was even and held a hint of emotion.

"He's gone isn't he? Sammy's dead?" Dean's voice trembled. Jim turned warm caring eyes to Dean and covered the young man's right hand with his own.

"He's alive Dean." Jim answered softly. Dean stared at Jim in disbelief. "I came to get you and bring you back. Dr. Odden wants to speak to you. Julie is up there waiting."

"Alive? They got his heart beating again?" Dean wasn't willing to believe.

"Yes," Jim confirmed. "He's fighting Dean. He's fighting very hard." Jim answered with conviction. "Now, let's get you back to the ICU the doctor is waiting."

**Two Hours Later, ICU**

Julie sat next to Dean silently offering support to her fiancée. Jim had finally left to go home to feed Duncan and tend to some obligations. "Jules," Dean spoke softly as his eyes shifted from his little brother.

"Yes?"

"I think it's time you went back to Cambridge."

"What? I'm not going anywhere Dean. This is where I'm supposed to be." Dean tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I know, but you need to go back and finish with your BAR preparation. The test is in two weeks. Jules," Dean hurried on before she could say something. "I need to do this alone. I need to be with Sammy and with …" his voice trailed off slightly. "Since my dad…" he left it unfinished. "I can stay with Sammy full-time now."

"I don't want to leave you or Sam. What about Jim? I've been helping outside of here, too."

"Julie, please honey, I know you want to help and that you think of Sammy and Jim as family and they are, but I can't let you blow off the BAR, if you miss this round it'll be another four months before you can take it."

"What about BioTech?" Julie asked as her eyes shifted between Dean and Sam.

"I've spoken to them and they know the situation. I'm not due to start there until August. Sammy's gonna be up and around in no time," Dean tried to convince himself.

Julie finally relented. "Fine, but I don't like it and I'm going to call everyday, even if it's just to ask Jim about progress reports. I know you can't have a cell phone in here."

**Two Weeks Later, ICU**

"Hey sleepy head," Dean's voice was soft. The last two weeks had been touch and go but it seemed Sam had finally made a turn in the right direction. He had begin triggering the ventilator three days ago and making small purposeful movements although he remained in a coma. "The doc says you might decide to open those puppy eyes of yours pretty soon," he ran a hand through Sam's long locks while the other held his little brother's hand. "He said he's going to take that tube out later today. I bet you'll be glad to have that thing out of your throat, huh?" Dean asked hoping for some kind of response and he got his wish, Sam moved his fingers in his brother's hand and grasped them weakly. He didn't wake and the action was more like a reflex of a baby latching onto fingers or something put into their hand, but it was something and it made Dean remember that there was still life in his brother and that he was going to leave this damn hospital with is brother awake and mending. They had lost their father and for now that was a pain and grief that Dean had to compartmentalize until he had the time to really deal with the loss but right now was not the time … Sam needed him, all of him and he couldn't let his mind think about their father and his death, not yet at least.

"Dean?" Dr. Odden's voice brought his attention away from Sam's silent features. "I wanted to talk to you about the latest MRI result and some other test results."

"Okay, outside," Dean stood up. "I'll be right back Sammy," Dean gently ran his hand over the top of his brother's head. "I'll just be right outside your room door, okay?" He looked at the doctor and inclined his head toward the door. "Well?" Dean asked as they stepped outside. He didn't like being away from his sibling any longer than he had to be.

"The MRI looked pretty good considering the initial prognosis when the swelling wasn't abating. Now, the swelling is all but gone with the exception of some slight edema that remains as his bruised brain heals."

"His lungs are strong enough now, right? You're takin' him off the ventilator today."

"Yes, his bruised lungs are strong enough that's why we've been weaning him slowly since he started triggering the vent. When he comes off it's still going to be hard but that's because the machine has been doing all the work and his breathing muscles will be weak, but I don't expect there to be a problem. His other internal contusions are healing nicely."

"His heart … what about the tests on it?"

"The cardiothoracic surgeon that operated on Sam said that he's progressing well and that the aortic tear was repaired and is healing nicely based on his last chest MRI, and echocardiogram and the arrhythmias the severe bruising caused have been under control for a while and his cardiologist has removed his arrhythmia drugs. The incision site as you know has sealed itself and the staples were removed. His sternum will mend around the surgical wire used to close his rib cage. His sternum should be fully healed in another couple months until then he'll need support to sit, lie down and stand and it's going to be uncomfortable. His bruised ribs are healing, too."

"What about the coma?" Dean's eyes flitted into the room his brother was in and settled on his kid brother. "Will there be further deficits?"

"Dean," Dr. Odden began tentatively. "Just as I told you and Jim both the other day in the conference about Sam … there were a few minutes in the ER where Sam wasn't getting oxygenated blood to his brain when there was the interruption of blood within the aorta and his heart went into arrest. As you well know from previous experience with your brother … when there is an event of oxygen deprivation to the brain there is always the chance of brain damage or long lasting effects."

"You'll be able to give him some kind of rehab program, right? I mean, if there is more deficits … I want Sammy to have everything he needs."

"After he regains consciousness I'll be able to ascertain if he'll need additional rehab or stay with his current program here at the center. He's a trooper Dean. I had my doubts in the ER. He was in pretty bad shape."

"Yeah, I know…" Dean's eyes were on Sam. "I meant to thank you for what you did in the ER. Sam's heart doc said if you hadn't stopped the bleeding he wouldn't have made it to the OR."

"No need to thank me Dean. To tell you the truth it scared the crap out of me … I had to block it out that it was Sam and just do what needed to be done." Dean nodded.

"You never answered me about the coma," Dean reiterated.

"Well, like I told you he's making progress. Sam's making small purposeful movements and he's clutching your fingers now and again … he's coming back slowly but you're going to have to be patient. I know it's tough but we're all on Sam's schedule not ours. He's moving forward with small steps of improvement Dean, so hold onto that."

**Later that Evening, ICU**

Dean dipped a cloth into warm water filling a plastic basin and gently wiped down his brothers chest being mindful of the fresh scar on his chest. The scar was still red in most places indicating its newness but there were a couple spots that were slightly pink indicating it was healing. Dean picked up Sam's arm and with great care wiped his brother's skin with the moist cloth. Dean had unbuttoned Sam's gown sleeves and pulled the gown down to cleanse his brother's body.

"You're good at that," Kim, Sam's night nurse said quietly as she walked in to adjust Sam's fluids and check his vitals. "I could have given him his sponge bath," she replied kindly. Dean looked at her as he placed his brother's arm back at his side.

"Nah, I don't mind doing it. I feel useful … like I'm able to do something for him ya know?"

"I understand," she replied. "So, who showed you how?" Dean chuckled quietly as a memory flooded his mind of his brother.

"I've bathed this kid more times than I can count growing up. Geez, his favorite thing was to get all soapy and then make a run for it … let me tell you trying to catch a four year old naked and covered in suds isn't easy." Kim laughed lightly.

"A real handful, huh?"

"You have no idea," he joked.

"I can imagine. I have three boys at home all under the age of ten … my youngest is just about to turn three." Dean nodded in acknowledgement that she did understand.

**Two Weeks Later, ICU**

Sam had begun moving his arms and legs a lot during the last week and the staff had to put gentle restraints on Sam's arms to keep him from pulling at his IV's and oxygen tubing. In his half conscious state that he entered into now and again he was combative and would try to pull his IV's out or remove his nasal cannula. Dean noted that Sam moved his left leg a little but it was obvious even while still in is light coma he felt the discomfort of his broken femur. Sam was stirring and Dean placed a calming hand on his brother's arm. "Shh, Sammy, stop pulling okay," he urged. Sam's breaths were labored and that concerned Dean, however, Dr. Odden had said his brother's oxygen levels were satisfactory considering he was still recovering from a minor bought with pneumonia he'd contracted the previous week. Dean kept vigil. Julie called every day and talked to Dean or Jim. She had been in town just a week ago when she had taken the Minnesota BAR exam and was currently holding down the fort in Cambridge and was busy packing and preparing for the move to Blue Earth next month.

**One Week Later, ICU**

Sam had emerged from the coma to Dean's delight but seeing Sam's eyes open and making contact with his own was only half the battle. Dean hoped that his brother had suffered no lasting additional deficits due to the latest injury but part of him was whispering that it wasn't meant to be as he waited to hear from Dr. Odden who was giving Sam a battery of neurological exams and other tests.

"Well?" Dean asked as he pushed himself up from his chair quickly when Dr. Odden came out of the neurology department scan viewing room. He offered Dean a soft smile.

"I just finished the consult with the Chief of Neuro and he looked at Sam's news scans and he also ran some neuro test's of his own on Sam, and…"

"Look, he opened his eyes and then I'm pushed out of there a few minutes after," Dean's tone was sharp and worried. "I just want to know how my brother is … is he talking, can he talk, what? He made eye contact with me, so that's good, right?"

"Dean," the doctor encouraged. "Take a breath, okay. I know you're worried and that you've been on edge. The new MRI shows that the swelling is almost gone and that the drugs we've been using are doing what they're supposed to. Sam's neuro tests were actually pretty good considering I honestly thought we could be dealing with some profound issues after this latest incident. There are some problems but I think with additional rehab he should be able to overcome them."

"Some problems? Like what?" Dean pushed.

"Well, Sam's always had problems with his left side since the drowning but I've noticed some additional motor skill problems that will have to be addressed with therapy. His cognitive skills are about the same it appears we'll no more as he returns to his other rehabs and schooling. We'll have him tested and see if he needs to move back in his schooling. He's confused and scared but I talked to him and calmed him down. He answered our questions as best he could and he is following commands, so all in all he's doing great. It appears we dodged a bullet with the oxygen deprivation that occurred during his cardiac arrest in the ER. There could be some cognitive issues that may still creep up that we haven't discovered yet but it's likely if there are any that his teachers will find them out. You may have to work with him more with his flash cards and other items …"

"Yeah, anything he needs, but you're saying he's okay, though…" Dean hedged.

"Well, okay in the sense that he doesn't appear to have any profound new deficits with this latest trauma. His leg is going to need rehab once he's able to put weight on it. The rod and pin they used to put his femur break back together again will stay in to support the bone. The incisions have sealed themselves, so they'll be removing the immobilizing apparatus they've been using while his leg was in traction. His Orthopedist has ordered a leg brace. They won't put on a cast. Sam will be in a wheel chair for at least three weeks but his physical therapist and his Orthopedist who did the surgery on his leg may prescribe modified rehab crutches for him to get around but with his motor control problems it could prove difficult, we'll play it by ear. The femur takes awhile to heal could be anywhere from three to six months, so it's gonna feel like a long haul for you and Sam both."

"The motor problems," Dean pressed. "What are they?"

"Well, he's having trouble controlling his movements. I tried to get him to put a small ball into a can for me and his hand was all over the place trying to get the ball into the can. He finally did it but it was an effort. His legs are less spastic but will still need work just like before after the drowning. We can rehab him for the spastic movements and he may be given a home rehab routine where he'll need to be put through his paces."

"Sure, anything I have to do I will," Dean hurried on. Kirk Odden smiled.

"I have no doubt that you will but don't forget you've got Jim, too," he encouraged. His face sobered for a moment. "How are you doing anyway?" the doctor asked gently.

"I'm okay," Dean's answer was blunt and the doctor knew the young man wasn't okay but he would deal with the loss of his father when he had a chance to take a breath. He nodded at Dean and pressed no further. "I want to see Sam."

"Sure thing, he should be back in his room now after the MRI and other tests. He was given some morphine for the pain in moving him around so he may be asleep or groggy."

"I just want to see him," Dean couldn't contain the smile that was creeping up on his face over the fact that Sam was out of the coma. "Hey doc?"

"Yes?"

"So, Sammy's out of the woods…" Dean left the question hanging. Dr. Odden smiled.

"I think barring any complications that it's safe to say Sam has turned the corner we've all been waiting for … I'm not prepared to remove him from the critical list just yet, maybe another day or two and then he'll be upgraded to serious and maybe he can even be moved out of the ICU to our Stepdown unit, but yeah, he's turned a corner, I think you can breathe now Dean … you and Jim both."

"Thanks," Dean's face broke into a huge smile and for the first time in a long time the smile reached his eyes. He headed toward his little brothers ICU room with a lighter heart.

**One Hour Later, ICU**

Sam stirred in his bed. The pain killer he'd been given was keeping him groggy and he scrunched his face in waking trying to shake the effects. He opened his eyes and saw his older brother. "D…" his voice caught in his throat and Dean quickly grabbed a cup of ice chips and spooned a small amount into his little brother's mouth.

"Easy Sammy just a little bit, okay?" his voice was soft and comforting. He was silently happy that his little brother was trying to speak. He had been so worried that he might never hear his brother's voice again.

"Ddd…Dean? I want ttt…to go home," Sam lamented. "Leg hurt," he complained. Dean frowned. The morphine should still be taking the edge off.

"How bad Sammy?"

"Just hurt," Sam replied. Dean sighed. He was suddenly reminded of what his father and Jim dealt with on a full time basis. Sam had a vocabulary but it was limited in a lot of ways.

"Sammy does it ache or hurt?" Dean tried to think of a way to communicate with his brother. "You know Sammy when you closed your finger in Uncle Jim's screen door and it hurt really bad and bled?" Sam nodded. "You remember when you fell and hurt your knee at my school that one time and it sort of hurt the next morning when you tried to move it at first?" Sam nodded. "Well, your finger was pain so it hurt but your knee was an ache. So, does your leg hurt or ache?" Sam looked at his brother with pensive eyes for a moment.

"Ache," he answered quietly. Dean relaxed.

"Okay, kiddo. I'll see if the nurse can give you some Tylenol or something but we won't get any pain meds right now."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Where Daddy?" Dean felt his breath catch. He wasn't ready to do this and he wasn't too sure Sam would really understand. Also, the fact Sam had just called their father 'Daddy' for the first time in a long while indicated that he was either very distressed and just wanted parental comfort or this was a small setback cognitively.

"Sammy, why don't you take a nap now," Dean suggested when he saw his brother struggle to keep his eyes open. "I'll be here, okay?"

"Dean what happened? I remember 'seven ate nine' and Daddy laughing. Why I here? Want to go home?" Dean felt hot tears threaten to rise up and a soft voice saved him.

"Hi Sammy," Jim chimed from the door. "Well, look at you kiddo. You being a good boy for the nurses and doctors?" Jim walked in and put a consoling and comforting hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed. Dean knew Jim had been there long enough to hear Sam's questions. Sam smiled at the man he knew as his Uncle. "Sammy?" Jim asked.

"Huh?"

"What is seven, eight, nine?" Sam tried to laugh but winced from the pain of his still healing sternum and bruised ribs.

"I tell daddy a jjj…joke," Sam replied. "Why six afraid of seven?" Jim smiled softly.

"I don't know Sammy," he commented. "Why is six afraid of seven?"

"Ccc…cause seven ate nine." Jim chuckled despite the sad realization that the last moment Sam and John had shared was a moment of laughter and the sharing of a children's joke Sam had probably learned at school. He was happy that John's final moments in this life before the crash were happy and filled with laughter. It was comforting and saddening at the same time. Dean stood up abruptly.

"Sammy, I'll be back in a minute okay," Dean hurried out of the room before he couldn't hide his emotions from his impressionistic little brother. Jim smiled sympathetically at the quickly retreating figure. Jim waited a few minutes and watched Sam as he succumbed to fatigue and the remnants of the pain killers in his blood stream. When he was certain that he was asleep he got up and went to look for Dean. He didn't have to look far and wasn't surprised that even distressed Dean wouldn't stray far from his younger sibling. Jim found Dean just outside the ICU unit standing by a window looking down on the parking lot below. He stepped up beside Dean quietly.

"You doing okay?" His voice was soft. Dean looked over at Jim and then his eyes glanced back toward the ICU unit doors. "He's asleep." Dean nodded and returned his eyes to looking out the window. "Dean?" Jim prompted. "You need to talk about it," he pushed gently. "It's eating you up and you can't hide it from me. Please, let me help you," Jim looked warmly at Dean as the young man lifted his eyes and met Jim's.

"He could have died Jim," Dean answered softly. "It was too close."

"He's awake now and Kirk said he's turned a corner."

"I know, but…"

"But, you almost lost him like you did your dad," Jim replied softly.

"He asked about him," Dean began.

"I heard when I was walking in," Jim countered.

"I can't do it Jim … I can't tell him about Dad. I don't even know how to do it in a way that he'll understand. Does he even really understand what dead really means?" Jim looked on Dean with soft eyes.

"I could talk to him," Jim offered.

"It should come from me," Dean countered.

"Dean you can't be all things for your brother. I know you want to be and think you have to be but you can't. You want to be in there when he finds out? I think I can approach it in a way he might understand. You're right he doesn't really understand the concept. I think he gets that it means the person is gone and doesn't come back but I still think he doesn't quite get the finality of it."

"If we can put him off until after he's out of ICU I think that'd be better," Dean's voice shook.

"I agree." Jim surveyed Dean's face. "Dean, how are you really? Please, talk to me. We've hardly discussed anything since…"

"Jim everything has been about Sammy and making sure he's doing okay. I can't do anything for Dad. When he was still hooked up to all that crap keeping him alive I kept thinking he's takin' such hard beatings in life that he'd be okay … I really thought the doctors were wrong … I just…"

"Never thought anything could kill your dad," Jim spoke softly and with wisdom. Dean's eyes misted and he nodded.

"Signing those papers Jim," Dean's voice caught in his throat. "Aside from watching Sammy struggle to live to come back from his injuries … signing the papers to turn the machines off was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

"I know," Jim replied. "You did the right thing Dean and never think for one minute you didn't." Jim assured.

"I know I did, but letting go it's so hard…"

"Hey, no one ever said you had to let go of your father Dean. You have twenty-two years of memories and you miss him … always will. Your Dad is with you always, and Sammy, too. He's alive in both of you."

"In his room," Dean began suddenly. "When I was talking to him after I signed the papers before they shut things off…"

"Yes?"

"It's gonna sound crazy but it's like I felt him there ya know like maybe he was saying goodbye or something." Jim smiled.

"Crazy? Dean after the life you used to live when hunting … it's not crazy. I wouldn't expect anything less from John than to hang around until you let his body go. He was there for you boys. It's not crazy at all," Jim assured. Dean allowed a small smile to slip across his mouth.

"Listening to Sammy talk about that joke," Dean lamented. "It hurt to listen to."

"I understand, but take comfort in the fact that your Dad and Sam's last moments together were happy that means everything." Dean nodded. "You know, your Dad was so proud of your graduation. He still talked about it and he was excited for your new job. Dean, your father may not be in the church the day you marry but know that he was looking forward to you and Julie saying your vows and you making him a grandpa," Jim chuckled quietly. "Well, not for a couple or so more years he used to say. But, he was so proud Dean always know that," Jim dropped a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Thanks for that Jim."

"No thanks needed," he replied. "So, we never really hashed out things on how you felt about your daddy's will and Sammy's guardianship. You okay with things? His wishes?"

"I won't lie I was pissed for a few minutes," Dean relented. "Sammy's always been mine ya know … mine to look after, to keep safe, but then I went away to school and he started depending on Dad and you, it wasn't easy. And, then Dad's will…"

"I know."

"I get why he wants me to wait until I'm twenty-five to take on Sammy's guardianship. It gives me time to get settled in life and stuff, but…"

"Dean I will never make any big decisions for Sam's health or well-being without talking to you," Jim replied. "The everyday routine I may not consult you with but anything major we'll always talk, I promise. I take the responsibility of Sammy's guardianship with the utmost care." Dean nodded in appreciation.

"The trust fund for Sammy…"

"Yeah, it's a nice chunk of cash. I remember when your dad took out the policy he paid a little more in premiums with the accidental double payment. He didn't want to worry about you boys being comfortable. I know he never thought the policy would come into use so soon. I think he figured you'd already be okay with money but taking on Sammy in a few more years could be costly especially for some of the extra therapies your Dad's been taking him to that the state and city don't pay for. Sam's also been in some extra curricular activities with his after school program."

"Yeah, Dad told me about the T-ball and the book club." Jim smiled.

"So we're okay?"

"Yeah, Jim. I know you love Sammy too and you'd protect him with your life."

"Damn straight," Jim answered with a glint. Dean quirked an eyebrow at the religious man's use of the word 'damn'. Jim chuckled. "What?" he replied innocently.

"Nothin'" Dean smirked.

**One Week Later, the Stepdown Unit**

Jim and Dean sat in Sam's room and both prepared to tell him about John. He had been asking for his father everyday and everyday Dean or Jim had been putting him off until he was safely in the Stepdown unit and upgraded to serious condition.

"Ddd…Dean," Sam's voice was soft as he tried to eat some applesauce with a great deal of effort. Dean stood up to help his brother. "Nnn…no, I do myself," Sam asserted as his hand control struggled with the spoon and the eye hand coordination needed to make it to his mouth.

"Sammy let me help," Dean spoke gently. "Just for now kiddo. You'll get better and when you do this won't be any trouble but right now…"

"No, I want do myself." Dean sighed and sat down. Sam looked at his brother and Uncle. "Where Ddd…dad?" Sam had fallen back into using 'Dad' a few days ago and part of Dean was happy but then there was the empty pit. Now, was the moment of truth and Dean felt sick to his stomach. Jim leaned forward and Dean looked to him for help.

"Sammy?" Jim began gently. "I wanted to talk to you about your Dad."

"Where he at?" Sam asked. "He get h…hurted like me?" Sam frowned. "Hhh…hurt," he corrected himself.

"Yes, Sammy he did," Jim replied. Sam's eyes were wide and worried.

"Where Daddy," Sam's voice panicked and his eyes misted. It was as if he were already figuring out that his father would have been there by his side if he could and he wasn't. Dean cringed at the desperation in his brother's voice and he had used 'Daddy.'

"Sammy, your dad loves you so much," Jim spoke evenly. "And, he'll love you always no matter where he is, you understand?" Sam nodded. He knew his father loved him. He said it everyday to him and at night when he tucked him in at Uncle Jim's.

"I know," Sam answered. "He say all the time." Jim smiled. "Where he at? Want to see him."

"Sammy, your Dad was hurt and the doctors couldn't fix him," Jim began tentatively. Sam looked at Jim and then his brother and back to Jim.

"Like Humpty Dumpty?" he questioned with innocent eyes. Jim knew he was only partially understanding the ramifications of what he was trying to tell him. He looked at Sam and saw an eighteen year-old young man but the mind was much younger.

"Yes, Sammy, like Humpty," Jim pushed forward with his speech. Dean sat closer to his brother. His chest aching at what was coming. "Sammy, your Dad was hurt so bad that God decided to come and take him home," Jim spoke softly. Sam tilted his head slightly as he soaked in what his Uncle was saying.

"Home? Daddy's at home with Duncan and God took him there?"

"No, Sammy, God took him home to his home in the sky … God took your Dad to heaven. He's with your Mom now." Sam's brow creased.

"But, heaven far away, Daddy said so. I never see Mommy so I never see Daddy," Sam's face became anguished. "No!" he shouted. "You tell Daddy he not aloud to stay. Heaven too far away. I want him here. You go tell God to bring Daddy back." Jim felt his resolve begin to shatter at Sam's words and expression.

"Sammy, I wish I could son, but I can't. Your Daddy loved you so much and he always will but he had to go to heaven to be with your Mommy," he simplified his speech and spoke in the mommy and daddy frame that Sam obviously needed.

"No," Sam's defiance evaporated as the tears came. His voice bubbled through the tears that were beginning. "Want Daddy. Ppp…please, I be a good boy want my daddy." Dean's heart shattered and he stood up and slid in carefully next to his younger brother mindful of his still healing body he put and arm gently around his brother. Sam's tears were harsh and his breath was almost gasping. His sternum ignited into a fire hot pain and he gasped. Dean stood up abruptly.

"Sammy!" his voice was thick with concern. Sam's tears continued and so did the pain. "No, Sammy, you have to calm down, okay. You'll hurt yourself." Dean turned panicked eyes to Jim.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy," Jim tried to calm the situation. "You've got me and Dean."

"I want see Daddy," he gasped and cried at the same time.

"When you're better Sammy we'll take you to talk to him, okay?" Jim offered. Dean shot a glare at him.

"Rrr…really? I see him?"

"No Sammy, but you can talk to him. When your Daddy went to heaven his body stayed here and went to sleep in the ground … he has a pretty place under a big tree. You won't see your Daddy but you can talk to him there," Jim assured. Sam calmed a bit and Dean relaxed a fraction. Sam tried to move and gasped in pain as his sternum protested the movement and when he jerked from the sudden discomfort he cried out from the pain in his leg. "Dean, stay with him," Jim stood up. "I'm gonna get his doctor. He needs some pain meds." Dean nodded tightly.

**Four Months Later, Rehab**

Sam struggled with the range of motion exercises the physical therapist had him doing. His leg was healing but it still ached and some exercises caused pain. He was able to bear weight but with the aid of a strong metal brace that gave added support. Sam had been going through additional motor control therapies for his hands and arms and they had improved a great deal. He was back to his ability level motor wise in his hands and fingers that he had before the car accident.

"Okay, Sam," Ryan his therapist said with a smile. "That's it for today kiddo. I think you're Uncle Jim will probably be waiting for you in the lobby by now.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "But, Fff…Friday my bbb…big brother will get me," Sam beamed with pride.

"Oh, yeah, your Uncle mentioned that … he's getting married this weekend, right? You're going to be the best man." Sam smiled.

"Ddd…Dean say it important jjj…job." Ryan smiled at the young man.

"It is Sam and you'll be great at it … just remember you still have to wear your leg brace."

"I know," Sam complained. "Ddd…Dean already said I wear over my ttt…tux."

"You know what a tux is Sam?" Ryan questioned. Sam nodded.

"Dean ttt…tell me." Ryan nodded and looked at his watch.

"Well, Sam you better get going your Uncle will be waiting.

Dean had reluctantly started at BioTech on schedule, but only because Sam had been released from the hospital and was on his strict rehab schedule. He had returned to school, but only for a half day program until he was more fully mended and he wasn't aloud to do any physical hard play as his body was still healing from the accident. Sam had already had Jim and Dean take him to the cemetery to see his father's grave. He didn't understand the concept of a grave, but he did understand that some piece of his father existed in this place and he liked the quiet of the place and had even named the big Oak tree shading his father's grave, Ben. When Dean and Jim had asked him why he picked Ben he had just smiled and looked at the tree saying he looks like a Ben.

Dean and Julie had rented a three bedroom house in Blue Earth and Dean drove the thirty mile commute to Mankato for BioTech everyday except for when he flew out of Blue Earth for meetings in Minneapolis with the main branch of BioTech. Julie had passed her BAR and accepted a position at a local law firm that handled corporate and international litigation. The wedding was scaled down after the car accident but there would still be a big turn out. Julie would only have one attendant, a friend she'd known since high school and Dean would have Sam stand at his side. Julie's parents, family and friends were either driving or flying in to Blue Earth for the wedding. Dean was looking forward to seeing his friends once again. He'd lost touch over the years and only spoke to Tyler once or twice a year.

**Wedding Day, October 2001, St. Mary's Church, Blue Earth**

Dean struggled with his tie as he felt his sweaty hands. He looked in the mirror behind himself at his little brother who was trying with all he was worth to button his tux shirt. Dean smiled warmly. "Lots of button, huh?" His voice was light.

"Ttt…too many," Sam complained.

"Here," Dean stepped over. "I can help Sammy." Sam allowed him.

"Thh…thank you," Sam replied.

"No problem kiddo. After all, my best man has to be looking his best today."

"I not even care I miss cartoons for today," Sam smiled and displayed his dimples. Dean chuckled. He had forgotten that it was a Saturday and indeed his brother was usually watching a couple hours or so.

"Yeah, thanks Sammy," Dean chimed. "Anyway, you don't need to be watching those freaky Teletubbies, anymore … somethin' ain't right with them," Dean complained. He hated them as much as the purple dinosaur, but at least he didn't think Barney was in need of an exorcism.

"I like," Sam complained.

"Watch some golden oldies Sammy," Dean offered. "You know … _Thunder Cat's_ or something … you used to like the _Speed Racer_ reruns."

"I do like _Speed Racer_, he cool," Sam replied with a smile. There was a knock on the door that brought their attention from their conversation. Jim poked his head in and then stepped in.

"How are you boys coming along?"

"Good," Dean answered. "Just got Sammy all buttoned up. This freakin' tie is driving me nuts," he complained. "Look at you," Dean inclined his head toward Jim's formal robes for the wedding service. Dean felt lucky that Jim was the one marrying him and Julie. It felt right. "Should I be callin' you Padre or something?" Jim laughed.

"No, just Uncle Jim to you," he replied. "May I?" he motioned to the tie. Dean dropped his hands from messing with the tie further.

"Yeah, go ahead." As Jim fixed the tie it was evident to both men that they knew if John were here he'd be at his son's side for his wedding day and that he'd be the one fixing his tie, but he wasn't here … Jim was and Dean was silently thankful he had the man in his life … in Sam's life. "Thanks," his reply soft but full of emotion. Jim looked warmly at Dean and smiled.

"My pleasure," he replied. "So, how're holding up? You're about to become a married man," he jested. Dean laughed.

"Yep, I guess I'll have to throw out that little black book, eh?" He mused. Jim laughed.

"What bbb…black book," Sam added his voice to the moment and both men laughed.

"Nothin' Sammy," Dean replied with a glint in his eyes. The church bells started ringing and there was light knock at the door. Jim went to answer it and it was a church usher there was a quiet conversation between them and Jim closed the door and turned to the boys.

"Well, it's time," Jim said lightly. "Let me look at you boys." He looked both boys over from head to toe and smiled. "Okay, you both look ready. Sam you have the ring?" Sam reached in his jacket pocket.

"I ppp…promise Dean I be real careful … see all safe," he displayed the ring proudly.

"Good job Sammy, now keep it safe until I ask for it, okay? Remember the rehearsal last night?" Sam nodded. "Good boy."

"See you out front Jim," Dean spoke softly.

"Okay, someone will knock on the door again in about five minutes and then head out to the main sanctuary and to the altar. I'll see you there." Dean nodded with a smile.

**Three Days Later, Jim's House**

"Uncle Jim?" Sam sat at the kitchen table as his Uncle busied himself in the kitchen making dinner.

"Yeah?"

"What you say a hhh…honeymoon is again?" Sam was still perplexed by this concept. Jim chuckled.

"Well, Sammy it's like a vacation, you understand vacation…" Sam shook his head that he did. "Dean and Julie just got married and a lot of married couples take a little vacation right after the wedding because they want to spend time together and relax after all of the wedding planning."

"So, they go to away to have fff…fun?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Sammy. Dean and Julie flew to San Francisco in California for a few days, but they'll be back on Friday. Do you know where California is?" Jim asked always looking for a learning opportunity for the young man.

"They show us map at school … I know where," he answered proudly. "Ddd…Dean and Julie fly in sky to get there."

"That's right Sammy they did," Jim agreed with a warm smile. "Now, tomorrow Sammy you have a half day at school remember?"

"I remember," Sam answered. "I go to rrr…rehab in morning."

"Yep," Jim answered lightly. "We're going to get that leg of yours all better again very soon and Dr. Peters will take that brace off."

"Uncle Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Why I not see Dr. Od… for leg" Sam always shortened Dr. Odden's name because he simply couldn't manage it.

"Well, Sammy, Dr. Odden isn't a bone doctor but Dr. Peters is, so that's why he takes care of your leg."

"Cause I broke bone in Dad's truck?"

"Yes, Sammy."

"I want to visit Daddy's place again," Sam often shifted back and forth with using 'dad' or 'daddy'. Jim looked at Sam for a moment.

"Okay, Sammy, we'll go tomorrow when I pick you up from school … how does that sound?"

"Okay, I want to take Daddy a present," Sam replied quietly. Jim didn't miss the perfect sentence and smiled at Sam.

"Well, Sammy, you're present enough when you visit your Dad."

"Want take flowers, not fake ones" Sam responded. Jim had to suppress a smile and chuckle. He remembered the day Sam discovered fake flowers for sale in the local drugstore. He'd hated them and when he had last visited the cemetery he had noticed that some graves were adorned with fake flowers and frowned. He had said _no fake for Daddy ever…_

"It's October Sammy real flowers won't survive, but how about I figure something out okay?"

"Okay," Sam answered softly. He looked at Jim and creased his forehead, "no fake," he reminded the man. Jim smiled.

"I promise Sammy no fake, I'll remember," Jim replied. Sam nodded.

**Four Months Later, January 24, 2002, Jim's House**

"Happy Birthday Dean," Jim replied as he sat the cake down at the dining room table. Julie and Sam sat watching. "Twenty-three."

"Yeah, a regular senior citizen, huh?" Jim chuckled. Dean was glad his birthday fell on a Saturday this year because that meant he could spend it with his family. He enjoyed his work at BioTech and Julie loved the local law firm she was working for. Sam was out of his leg brace and was back at school. He would be transferring to Drake in the fall after his nineteenth birthday. He had made some more advances with his studies but his delays were still very evident. Dean and Julie had rented a three bedroom house in town near her law firm and Dean commuted to Mankato for work. They had turned one room into a guest room which Sam stayed in for his overnight visits on occasions. Dean knew that Sam loved sleepovers at his big brother's house. The weekends were usually Dean and Julie's turn to take Sam and give Jim a break. Although, Sam wasn't a burden to any of his family and Dean was glad to help Jim out.

"Hhh…happy Bbb…birthday Dean," Sam offered up a dimpled smile and pushed what looked like a jumbled handful of the newspaper comics at him. Dean quickly noticed the makeshift red yarn wrapped around it. "I tie bow by self," Sam said proudly. "I wrap too." Dean looked at Jim with a perplexed face.

"Don't look at me," Jim replied. "This is all Sam. I didn't even know he had anything for you." Dean pulled on the sloppy yarn bow and opened the package. He smiled as he opened the tiny bulky package. He pulled out a slightly lopsided mug with a handle.

"We make in art class. Teacher cook it in weird oven and say it a real mug. For cc…coffee," Sam suggested proudly. The mug was yellow and blue with a shiny ceramic glaze coating it making it safe for use. There were bright red letters painted and glazed. "Teacher help with letters. I tell her what to say." Dean turned the mug around to look at the wording on the side of the mug and felt his throat clench with emotion: _Best Big Brother_. "You like?"

"I love it Sammy," Dean reached up and ruffled his little brother's hair. "I'll keep it at work and use it for coffee there."

"Really?" Sam felt pride in his work.

"Really," Dean affirmed.

**Five Months Later, May 2, 2002, Jim's House**

"Jules and I could have had the party at our place Jim," Dean offered.

"Nah, Dean," Jim answered easily. "The kids love having all this room to run wild and the parents seem to enjoy it too. It's hard to believe he's nineteen, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I went on that tour of Drake for family open house last weekend," Dean commented. "It's a good school. I think Sammy will really like it this coming fall."

"Yeah, I've been on a couple tours already," Jim responded. "I'm glad you were able to go last weekend."

"Yeah, well since Sammy was on that class weekend field trip to the nature preserve I thought it'd be something Jules and I could take a look at since we didn't have Sammy that weekend." Dean looked at the man he considered his family. "Uncle Jim?"

"Yeah," he answered absently as he gathered up a tray of pigs in blankets for Sam and his birthday party attendees. He had a bit more sophisticated snacks for the parents.

"Thanks," Dean replied softly. "For everything," he added. Jim turned and looked at the young man he'd known since he was five and smiled warmly.

"You boys are my family," he answered bluntly. "I love both of you."

"Love you, too," Dean answered quietly.

"You know," Jim began. "You're Dad would be so proud of the man you've grown into over the last few months. He was always proud but he'd be filled up seeing you now."

"You think?"

"I do."

"I still can't believe it'll be a year already next month that Dad's been gone," Dean's face was solemn.

"I know," Jim agreed.

"Sammy's done pretty good with it," Dean commented. "He really likes to visit the cemetery a lot…"

"Does that bother you?"

"No, for him he really is spending time with Dad and it makes him happy. I know he must ask you to go a lot. I know sometimes when he stays over on weekends he likes to stop by."

"He needs the contact of sorts Dean," Jim offered. "Sam still needs his father in a way and for some reason or another … the cemetery is giving that to him. He still misses John at night the most," Jim started. "John would read to him or they'd read together. I do it with him but even he knows it's not the same. I'm a substitute and he knows it … for all the ways your brother may be considered delayed he's a lot sharper than we give him credit for," Jim relented. "He was always a smart boy."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

"Dean! Uncle Jim!" Sam's excited yells bellowed in from outside. Dean and Jim both leaned over the kitchen sink to look out the window and could see Sam waving the present he'd just opened from his brother and Julie. Dean saw Sam hug Julie quickly and started showing his friends his brand new video game that looked like a space adventure game but was a creatively masked learning game to advance Sam's motor and cognitive skills.

Jim and Dean soon joined the party and they sat with the other adults while their children enjoyed the festivities.

**One Year Later, August 21, 2003, Blue Earth Hospital**

"I Uncle now," Sam spoke quickly. "I get to see new baby today."

"Yes, I hear she's a little beauty," Jim responded. Julie and Dean had welcomed their first child Caitlin Mary Winchester into the world late last night after midnight and had called this morning after Julie had had a chance to rest. Dean was excited. Jim remembered back over the last few months of Julie's pregnancy Sam had been so excited and had asked questions a young child would, _where do babies comes from … how'd the baby get in Julie's belly …_Sam's innocence was such a stark contradiction to his 6'4", twenty year old frame. Sam's latest tests had shown he was sitting around a fourteen or fifteen year old cognitively and emotionally with delays and he continued his special schooling. Sam had also spent a lot of Julie's pregnancy talking to her stomach and telling the baby stories or anything that popped into his head. He had said from the beginning that it was a girl even when Julie and Dean both thought it was going to be a boy but Sam had insisted … _no, in belly … girl not boy._ "Now, Sammy," Jim reached out a stopped the young man before they walked into the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital. Dean and Julie had a birthing suite all to themselves but the floor was shared by new parents and mother's busy in labor. "Sammy, we have to be quiet in the hallway, okay," Jim urged.

"Inside voice," Sam replied with a lowered tone. Jim chuckled despite himself.

"Yes, Sammy inside voice, good boy." Sam beamed. "Well, let's go meet Caitlin," he urged.

**One Hour Later**

Dean, Julie and Jim watched Sam sitting in the rocking chair holding his niece. She had taken to him like a fish to water. Dean had shown Sam how to hold her and to be careful of her head and neck and his little brother had eagerly listened to every word his big brother said and couldn't wait to hold her. They watched Sam and Caitlin. She cooed and bubbled at him with wide eyes. He held her gently and seemed to marvel at her tiny features and little hands that bobbed around near his chin. Sam slid one finger into one of Caitlin's hands and she grabbed and squeezed. Sam smiled. "You pretty little girl," he said softly. "I your Uncle Sammy," he said with pride. "Love you whole bunch," he whispered. She cooed and drooled. It wasn't long before she nestled against her Uncle's chest and fell asleep. Sam rocked her slowly in the chair completely focused on her. Dean, Julie and Jim all shared a look of amazement at the sight. Dean looked around the room and in that very moment everything he loved and held precious in his life was in that room, his family.

**Six Months Later, January 24, 2004, Kellerman Law Offices, Blue Earth**

"It's pretty simple Dean," Robert Kellerman spoke evenly as he placed a set of papers in front of Dean and Jim both. This just means that in accordance with your father's will that your dependant brother Samuel Winchester's guardianship be transferred to you upon your twenty-fifth birthday. And, since Jim isn't contesting the switch there is no need for court arbitration. You've both agreed that Sam's living arrangements will stay as they are and he will continue to dwell at Jim's residence located at 114 Route 12."

"I understand," Dean answered and Jim nodded. They both signed the transfer papers.

"Now, how you precede with decision's for Sam are up to the two of you my part of transferring and seeing that John's wishes are being fulfilled is complete. He wanted both of you to be decision makers for Sam and he wanted Sam to remain living at the home situation he is most used to."

"Thank you for handling all of this Robert," Jim spoke warmly to his friend and lawyer.

"You're welcome."

**Two Months Later, Jim's House**

There was a loud crash and the sound of shattering glass that brought Jim running from the kitchen down the hallway toward his study and library where the noise came from. Sam was home for the week because his school was on spring break and today was day one of his break. The first thing he saw was a step stool lying on its side in front of one of his large bookshelves near a window … the window was broken out and the hole was large. He felt the bile rise in his throat as he saw the blood streaks on the glass. "Sam!" the scream tore from his throat as he dashed toward the window. It was an old house and even the first floor was elevated in comparison with the outside. It was a good six to seven foot drop from a window on the first floor to the ground. He saw Sam below in the grass and dirt. It was obvious he had clipped some of the shrubbery on his way down and landed in the grass. He wasn't moving and all Jim saw was copious amounts of blood oozing from everywhere and he turned and ran toward the porch to get outside.

**Two Hours Later, Blue Earth Hospital Emergency Room**

"Jim it could have been a lot worse," Dr. Odden replied. He had been called down to the ER earlier when he'd been told one of his patients was just brought into the ER by ambulance.

"Worse? He was unconscious and a bloody mess," Jim just wanted to see Sam.

"I know, but you and I both know that head wounds bleed and the glass did slice him up pretty good, but there isn't any tendon damage and there wasn't any artery involvement."

"But, he's being transfused," Jim's voice was thick with concern.

"We're just topping off the tank so to speak," Kirk Odden tried to allay his friend's fears for his injured family member. "His blood count was just a little low," he assured. "And, there's no sign of concussion which I'm pretty happy about considering the loss of consciousness. He's alert now and he's gonna be fine. I'm keeping him for observation tonight but he should be able to go home in the morning. Um, I don't feel comfortable putting him on the adult wing, so I'm having him put up in a private room on the Ped's floor."

"How many stitches?" Jim asked.

"Well, his forehead at his hair line under his bangs took twelve, his left arm took ten and his right shoulder required twenty-five. There were a couple spots I used a surgical no stitch glue that will dissolve as the small cuts heal. Its water proof, so no worries about washing it off. And, you know the routine he needs to keep his stitches dry and clean and then bring him in to have them removed in a few days … I'll give you the paperwork." Jim nodded. "Um, I know there was a transfer in guardianship," Kirk hedged. "Do I need to talk to Dean?"

"No, Dean and I both share medical power of attorney for Sam. I do need to call him though and tell him about the accident. Can I see Sam?"

"Sure, he should be settled in his room. I'll walk you up."

**Forty Minutes Later, Outside the Pediatric Unit **

Jim pulled out his cell phone and called Julie first. She had been working from home on litigation papers and other projects for the law firm while she stayed home with Caitlin having decided to take an extended maternity leave. "Hello?" Julie answered and Jim could hear Caitlin babbling nearby and figured Julie probably had the pudgy six month old on her hip.

"Hi Julie," Jim spoke with a light tone. "How's the little one today?"

"Hi Jim," Julie laughed quietly. "She's great. What's up?"

"Well," he took a breath. "Sammy had a bit of a fall today."

"Fall? You wouldn't be calling if he weren't hurt," she shifted the baby on her hip and Caitlin became quiet almost as if she felt the sudden worry and tension in her mother. "How bad was Sam hurt?"

"They're keeping him overnight," he began.

"He's been admitted to the hospital," Julie rushed on. "What happened?"

"It appears that while I was in the kitchen that our Sammy took it upon himself to climb on a step stool in my study and lost his balance and fell through the window," he pulled the cell phone away from his ear and could still hear Julie's frantic voice barking over the phone. Caitlin had begun to get fussy and had started to cry.

"I wasn't sure I should call Dean at work or not. He really is going to be fine Julie," Jim assured.

**Twenty-Minutes Later, BioTech, Mankato, thirty miles away**

"Hello, Dean Winchester," he said into the phone he'd just picked up. "Oh, hey honey, how are my girl's doing?"

"We're fine."

"You sure? I hear Cat crying?"

"It's my fault I got a little worked up and you know how she picks up on things."

"Upset? What's wrong?" Dean tensed.

"Okay, first of all," she started. "They said he's going to be fine, okay?" Dean squeezed the phone until his knuckles were white.

"What happened?"

"Sam sort of fell through a window at the house," she tried to say nonchalantly to allay her husbands harsh reaction. When it came to Sam or any of his loved ones being hurt or in danger Dean was a pit bull.

"Christ!" he hissed into the phone. "They said? They who?"

"He got some stitches and I guess a unit of blood … from what Jim told me. He's been admitted to the hospital, but Jim said it's just for observation and he'll be released tomorrow," she assured.

"I'm coming home," Dean said as he was already putting things away at his desk and moving items into his briefcase.

"Dean, sweetie he's okay," she comforted.

"I'm coming home." Julie knew that tone and when it came to Sam or Caitlin Dean was constantly in hyper protective mode.

"Okay, I'll meet you at the hospital. Jim said they have Sam in the Pediatric unit, room 221."

"221?" Dean clarified.

"Yeah."

**Later that Night, Sam's Hospital Room**

Dean sat at his brother's side having sent his wife and daughter home. Jim had left a short while ago at Dean's insistence. "Dean?" Sam's groggy voice broke through the dimly lit room.

"Hey kiddo, how ya feelin'?" he asked.

"I have ouchies," Sam frowned.

"Yeah, you sure do buddy," Dean said with an exasperated voice. "You wanna tell me what you were thinkin' when you climbed up on that stool? You know you're not allowed," he reprimanded.

"I know," Sam replied dropping his eyes. "But …"

"But what Sammy?" Dean's concern and frustration were getting the best of him and his voice was harsher than he had intended. Sam's eyes misted. Dean reached out to soothe him. "Sorry Sammy, I didn't mean to sound mad. Don't be upset. I'm sorry." He spoke gently. "But, what were you trying to do?"

"Want see Daddy?" Dean looked at his brother with confusion.

"What do you mean? Sammy Dad isn't up there on the shelf."

"Yeah, he is," Sam countered. "Up top in frame … want to see …" Then it struck Dean it was a picture of all three of them taken at Dean's graduation. Jim had had it enlarged and sat it up on top of his largest bookshelf along with some other mementos.

"Sammy, you should have asked Uncle Jim if you wanted to see the picture. You could have really hurt yourself worse than you already have," Dean admonished gently. "You scared your big brother Sammy."

"I sorry," Sam spoke quietly. "Where Cat and Julie?"

"Julie took Caitlin home Sammy. It's late and past her bedtime." Dean knew Sam could say his niece's full name, but he had given her the nickname Cat and there was something special about that to Dean.

"I okay Dean," Sam replied. "You go home. I be okay alone. Uncle Jim bring me Bbb…Barney." Dean noticed the purple dinosaur neatly tucked beneath his brother's covers.

"No, Sammy, I'm staying with you tonight," Dean answered without skipping a beat. "I don't want you to be alone."

"But I okay."

"Yeah, I know, but I want to be here, okay? Now, close your eyes and go to sleep." Sam smiled and did as he was told. There were moments where Sam did seem to act older and then there were moments when he was like a kid.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was already drifting off.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean could see his little brother's eyes were half mast already.

"Love you bunches," Sam's voice slurred toward the end and Dean watched him nestle into his pillow and he drifted off completely. Dean reached up and carefully pushed back his brother's bangs avoiding the new stitches. He smiled warmly at his sibling.

"I love you too Sammy," he whispered quietly to deaf ears.

**Four Months Later, July 4, 2004, Jim's House**

"Where's the baby?" Dean asked as his wife sat down in a lounge chair.

"Fast asleep in the parlor in her playpen," Julie assured. "I've got the monitor, so I'll hear her if she wakes up."

"Man, I can't believe she'll be a year next month can you?" Julie shook her head.

"They grow like weeds Dean," Jim replied casually.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked as he looked around noticing his brother had disappeared.

"Right there," Jim pointed as Sam and Duncan came from around the side of the house. Sam tossed a stick and Duncan ran after it.

"This has been a great Fourth of July," Dean commented with a sigh. "No loud festival to deal with, although I think I'll take Sammy up to Centennial Park tonight for fireworks, I think he'd like that."

"I think he'd love it Dean. Me and Caitlin will just hang out with Jim until you bring Sammy back. I think the loud noises would probably scare her."

"Yeah, you're right about that, although she is a trooper," Dean commented with a wry smile. Sam came over and sat down with the family. The all sat talking for twenty minutes or so when Sam clearly became distracted suddenly and stood up abruptly and headed for the house. "Sammy?" Dean called after him but Sam kept going. Dean cast a glance at his wife and Jim. "What do you think that's all about?" Julie shrugged and Jim just watched Sam disappear into the house. A few long moments past in the quiet afternoon before it was shattered.

"No! No! Cat," Sam's terrified voice broke over the baby monitor that Julie had at her side. It made their blood run cold. Dean and Julie ran into the house with Jim on their heels. Jim saw Caitlin as Julie grabbed the baby from Sam as he was just picking her up out of the playpen. Jim was already running to the phone to call 911. He could see Caitlin's face was ashen, her unblinking eyes glazed and staring and her lips were a deep blue. She was limp and lifeless in Julie's arms.

"I'm calling an ambulance," Jim shouted. Dean was taking his daughter from his wife's arms and placed his child on the floor. He opened her mouth and looked and saw nothing. He attempted to give his child two puffs of air but her little chest didn't move. He readjusted her head and tried again … covering her small mouth and nose with his own mouth.

"Come on baby, breathe!" he begged. His fingers were shaking when he reached up and felt for a brachial pulse in her arm and found a weak one thumping but his baby girl looked dead and was unresponsive. She was slipping away.

"Dean!" Julie shrieked. "Please, do something," she kneeled at her child's side. Dean cast desperate eyes to his wife for only a second and tried to administer two more puffs of air to his child and still her chest didn't rise.

"The ambulance is on the way. I told them you were doing rescue breathing."

"Catie, please baby, breathe," Dean tried again. "I don't see anything in her mouth. I can't get the air in," Dean was a desperate father in a panic and things he would have thought of in the past would have come to him, but all he knew was that his baby daughter wasn't breathing, and was dying.

"What did you do?" Julie turned blazing eyes to Sam who stood staring in horror at the lifeless body of Caitlin.

"I…I…" Sam's eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Nnn…nothing … I do nothing," he lamented.

"Caitlin?" Dean begged. He felt for a pulse and his gut clenched at the weak beat against his finger tips. He knew her little heart would stop soon if he couldn't get oxygen into her small body. He tried again and to no avail, her little chest didn't rise. Sam bent down.

"No! You get away from her," Julie shouted and tried to push Sam, but it was as if something took over Sam and he wouldn't be ignored or brushed aside.

"I help," he reached for his little niece.

"No, Sam!" Dean barked. Sam's eyes suddenly blazed and he put his body weight into use and shoved his brother with force and grabbed his niece.

"Air not get in," Sam put his tiny niece over the length of his arm and supported her against his knee. He pointed her face down and squarely thumped her back between her shoulder blades … once … twice … and then it fell out, a red button eye that everyone recognized as belonging to her favorite stuffed animal she always had to sleep with. Dean, Julie and Jim stood staring as Sam placed his niece back on the floor and covered her mouth and nose with is his own mouth and gave her two tiny puffs just like Dean had been doing and her small chest rose. He put his ear to her tiny chest and a small noise of relief left his throat. Against all odds her tiny heart was still beating. He began breathing for her once again and didn't stop until the paramedics were running into the house and just before they pulled him away from Caitlin she tensed under his mouth and took a small tiny breath. Her eyes were still glazed and were now roaming and unfocused. Her breathing was weak but she was alive. There wasn't any time to process what had just happened Dean and Julie both ran out of the house. Julie rode with their daughter and Jim was driving Dean to the hospital. In the rush Sam had been left behind at the house. He had watched them strap Caitlin onto a small back board and carry her out as they placed a small ambu bag over her mouth and nose and helped her get more oxygen.

**Three Hours Later, the Pediatric ICU**

"Well, she's a fighter," Dr. Karen Long spoke evenly. "Her respiratory effort is still diminished but improving every hour. I should be able to remove the breathing tube by tomorrow."

"What about brain damage?" Julie's voice shook. Dean had his arm around her and held her close. Jim stood behind them listening.

"I think she'll be fine but we'll no more when she's more responsive. She was focusing on faces and tracking with her eyes in the ER and that's a positive sign. She is mildly sedated right now, so that she does not fight the intubation. I'm pretty confident your little girl isn't going to suffer any lasting effects from the choking. You did an excellent job of getting the button out and performing mouth to mouth … she's alive because of your efforts and fast thinking. I'll be in the PICU for a few hours and will check in on Caitlin again and in the mean time you can go see her." The doctor left and it was then that suddenly two things settled over the group: One, Caitlin was alive because Sam saved her. Sam had cleared her throat and Sam made her breathe, Two, where was Sam?

"Oh my God," Dean breathed. "Where is Sammy? Was he in the car coming here? I …I … where is he?" Jim's eyes were wide at the sudden realization that they had forgotten Sam in the rush to the hospital. He had been left alone at the house.

"Oh Lord in heaven," Jim blanched. He rushed from the PICU and tried calling the house on his cell phone. "Dammit," he hissed under his breath. He walked back into the PICU and shook his head. "He isn't picking up. I'm leaving now," his voice urgent.

"Go, Jim, I …" Dean looked back at his daughter he could see lying in her small hospital bed with a breathing tube rising up out of her mouth.

"It's okay Dean," he assured. "I know you have to stay. I'll get to Sammy." Jim left quickly.

Dean walked into his child's hospital room and stood next to his wife. He looked down at his little girl. Her chestnut colored hair was splayed out against the mattress of her tiny PICU bed. Her little arms were limp at her sides and her tiny chest rose and fell with assistance from the ventilator. Dean reached down and gently settled his hand on top of her small head. "Hey sweetie," he cooed to his child. "Daddy and Mommy are here pumpkin." Julie nestled close to her husband and reached down and under the thin sheet covering her daughter and held her daughter's foot. Caitlin had small wires coming out from under her little gown attached to a heart monitor and there was a pulse ox clip attached to her left big toe. There was an IV giving her fluids that hung nearby.

"Dean, we almost lost her," Julie choked silently.

"But we didn't," he countered. "She's gonna be okay Jules. If it hadn't been for Sammy…" Dean trailed off for a moment. "How could I forget to try and see if something were stuck down deeper … I could have killed her."

"Dean, honey, you did everything you thought of at the moment. I froze," Julie lamented. "She just looked lifeless and I froze." Julie's eyes were blood shot from crying and new tears swelled up. "What have I done?" she spoke in a quiet anguished tone. Dean looked at her and then it all came back to him what had been said around him while he tried to make Caitlin breathe.

"You honestly thought Sammy would ever hurt her?" Dean's tone was hushed and clipped.

"No," she spoke quickly. "I was just …"

"What Jules? You were what? I remember what you said now … you asked him what he did to her … you told him to get away … dammit," Dean kept his tone quiet for his little girl's sake. "He saved our daughter's life … I don't even know how he knew to do what he did, but he saved her and you blamed him ..." Dean's eyes were angry and he turned back to his daughter.

"He's not … I mean … I know he loves Caitlin, I do," she spoke softly. "I just didn't know … I mean he's like a big child Dean and anything is …" Julie never got to finish as Dean turned blazing eyes toward his wife.

"A big child?" Dean repeated her words with venom. "Is that what you think of my brother. He survived a drowning Julie. He survived a car wreck that killed our dad probably should have killed him and he saves our daughters life when we couldn't."

"I'm sorry," her voice was barely a whisper. She looked down at her child who was only alive because of Sam, her uncle had saved her. Dean didn't look at her and kept his eyes on his child.

"I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to," Dean shook his head. "I can't believe we left him at the house alone. Why hasn't Jim called yet?" Dean glanced at the clock on the wall above his child's bed.

**Meanwhile, Jim's House **

"Sammy!" Jim shouted through the house but everything was silent. He looked in the obvious spots inside and found no sign of the young man. Duncan was sitting in the parlor watching Jim's frantic search. Jim went outside and found his steps going quickly toward the pond just to be sure Sam hadn't ventured out there. He scanned the water with bile in his throat hoping he wouldn't see a floating body. He didn't notice any fresh footprints by the water edge either. Jim decided he needed to switch from uncle mode into hunter mode and he made the transition quickly. He saw some footprints on the trail and bent to look at them. They looked like Sam's … the gait was uneven and the left had a very slight hesitation almost drag to it … definitely Sam and they were fresh. Jim followed the prints until they disappeared into the grass but he followed several imprints in the green grass and then looked up and saw the barn. He smiled to himself despite his worry. The barn was Sam's spot when he was upset. The barn was a safe cocoon of sorts for him.

Jim entered the barn quietly and spotted a hunched figure on the far end near an open door sitting on a hay bale. "Sammy?" he spoke softly trying not to startle the young man. The sun had begun to drop and dusk was blooming behind Sam in the open door … pink and purple with shades of blue. Jim could see Sam had his arms wrapped around his knees that were drawn to his chest and he was rocking with his face buried against his arms. "Sammy?" Jim moved closer and Sam looked up. His face was tear streaked.

"Did I do bad?" Sam hiccupped in desperation when he saw Jim was alone … no Dean … no Julie … and most of all no Caitlin.

"No, no Sammy, hey kiddo, you saved Catie's life," Jim eased down beside Sam and wrapped a protective arm around him. "She's alive because you saved her," Jim repeated hoping the words sunk in.

"She okay?" Sam's voice was hopeful. "She not go to heaven?"

"She's going to be fine Sammy. She needs a little help right now but her doctor says she should be just fine." Jim looked at Sam for a long moment. "Sammy, how'd you know to do that for Caitlin?"

"I remember nurse show Ddd…Dean and Julie when she just a bbb…baby before leave hospital and I see on TV, too and it like nurse did, so I do it. And, I see Ddd…Dean give her air, so I do it like I remember." Jim thought back to when Caitlin had been born and suddenly remembered Sam was right. The hospital made sure all new parents were walked through infant and child CPR techniques and different techniques for choking. He was amazed Sam had remembered.

"You're a smart young man Sammy," Jim squeezed Sam. "How'd you know to go check on her?" Jim thought back to Sam's peculiar behavior that afternoon and how he'd just stood up and went into the house with a purpose. Sam looked at Jim and shrugged.

"Jjj…just fff…feel something wrong … I go to Cat," he spoke softly. Jim wasn't going to question whatever angel had been watching over the family he was just glad that Sam had picked up on whatever it was otherwise today would have had a much more horrific ending and the thought of how it could have ended made Jim sick to his stomach.

"I'm proud of you Sammy and Dean is too," Jim assured. Sam just looked at Jim and said nothing. He turned his eyes back out toward the field and watched the sun set.

**Later the next morning, PICU**

"The breathing tube is out and all the tests came back perfect. She's a healthy soon to be one year old." Dr. Long assured a worried looking Dean and Julie. "Her breathing is fine and she is alert and wanting her mom and dad I'm sure. You can go in and see her now. I'll release her later this afternoon."

"Thank you Dr. Long," Julie spoke first.

"Yeah, thanks Doc," Dean smiled. Dean and Julie walked into their little girl's room. Caitlin stood up in her bed with the high child bars raised, so she couldn't fall out. She saw her parents and was all smiles. She acted as if the whole nightmare of the last twenty-four hours hadn't even occurred.

"Hey there sweetie," Julie said in a sing-song voice as she lowered the bars to get to her child who was now free of wires, the breathing tube and the IV. Caitlin smiled.

"Bbb…Babu," she bubbled excitedly and looked around. "Babu," she repeated. Julie looked at Dean. It was the baby word Caitlin had given to her Uncle Sammy … she managed a few words … dada, mama … but one word no one in the family misunderstood once they knew what it implied was _Babu_ they weren't sure how it was she created that word but they all knew it meant her Uncle Sammy. She began to sing the word in her child like voice, Babu … Ba…Ba… Babu … Dean laughed.

"Well, I guess Sammy out ranks us, huh?" Dean and Julie were still a bit tense with one another after their previous night's conversation but they were trying to iron things out. Jim had called finally last night and said Sam was fine but hadn't gone into any details. "Maybe, I should call Jim and have him bring Sammy here," Dean suggested.

"No," Julie spoke and then quickly explained before her husband got the wrong idea. "Why don't we have Jim bring Sam to our house and he can see Caitlin there. She's just getting out of the hospital and I think she should be home." Dean nodded.

"Babu…Babu," Caitlin continued to bubble with a smile.

"Soon baby," Julie assured. "We'll get your Uncle Sam."

**Later that Day, Dean and Julie's Home**

"I put together some mini subs for a late lunch. Caitlin won't sleep yet," Julie commented. "I think she's waiting for Sam."

"Did she eat?"

"Yeah, I got some pureed bananas and some Gerber pasta circles into her. It's amazing how quickly she bounced back."

"Well, the doc did say kids can be pretty resilient sometimes," Dean replied. "I think I just heard a car pull up." He looked out the window and saw Jim and Sam getting out of Jim's car. He went to open the door and Sam seemed to hang back and stayed behind Jim as if the man were a shield. "Hey Sammy," Dean smiled. "What's with the hiding? Come here and let your big brother give you a hug." Dean enveloped his sibling in his arms and gave him a bear hug. "Thanks Sammy for what you did … I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to Catie."

"Babu!" Caitlin called out as Julie carried her into the room on her hip. Her little arms already reaching out toward her uncle. Sam smiled as his dark eyes met his niece's green-hazel eyes like her father's. She had her mother's facial features but her hair matched her uncle's hue perfectly and tended to curl at the ends like Sam's. "Babu!"

Sam stepped forward tentatively and wouldn't really meet Julie's eyes. "Here Sam," she said keeping her voice light. "Caitlin wants her uncle." Sam reached for her and Caitlin grasped onto her uncle like a clinging vine.

"Babu …Ba …Ba …Babu," she sang as she squeezed Sam's nose with her tiny fingers and laughed. It was a wonderful noise that filled the room and Sam smiled.

"Kitty Cat," Sam said smiling as he walked over to the couch with his niece in his arms. "You all better," he cooed. "No eat buttons, no more," he tried to make his voice stern but Caitlin just looked at him studying him for a long moment and placed both her hands on each side of Sam's mouth and pushed making his lips pucker outward like a fish.

"Babu!" Sam laughed. Caitlin landed a sloppy toddler kiss on her uncle's cheek and Sam made a face.

"Ooo, wet," he complained and then smiled at her. He covered his face with one hand while he held her against him in the other. She reached up trying to pry the hand away to see her uncle's face and he dropped it suddenly, "Boo!" he said with a dimpled grin. She squealed in delight at her uncle's new game.

Everyone in the room just watched the two of them together. It really was like watching two peas in a pod. They seemed to understand one another on some unknown level and communicated in ways no one else in the room would ever understand.

**Two Hours Later **

"Where are you going?" Dean asked Julie as she got up from the table she shared with Jim and her husband.

"Just to check on them. They've been in her nursery for awhile."

"They're fine," Dean held his wife's eyes in his gaze.

"It's quiet," she commented with her eyes drifting down the hallway toward her daughter's room.

"I'll go then," Dean let out a sigh. "Sam isn't comfortable around you yet if you haven't noticed."

"Dean, I'm sorry," Julie responded. "I'd talk to him, but he won't even look at me."

"Can you blame him? I'll go. You stay with Jim."

Dean went down the hallway quietly … stealth like … his days as a young hunter were long over, but some of the aspects of it came back to him sometimes. He peeked inside the nursery and pushed the slightly closed door open slowly and what he saw took his breath away. Sam was cradling Caitlin in his arms. She was gently swaddled in her favorite pink Winnie the Pooh blanket that Sam had picked out for her before she was even born. She was nestled into Sam's chest with her face turned toward her uncle. Sam was gently rocking both of them in the gliding rocker chair in her room and if Dean wasn't hearing things it sounded like Sam was humming to his niece, it was a pretty tune whatever it was. Dean back stepped silently and left without Sam ever seeing him.

"Well?" Julie looked up with anxious eyes and Dean had to push down the anger that look caused. Sam wasn't to blame for anything that had happened.

"He's rocking her and she's sound to sleep in his arms. Let them be." Dean's tone came out sounding harsh and clipped. Julie stood up abruptly.

"I have some dishes to do," and she left the room. Jim had seen her trembling bottom lip as she fought to keep her emotions in check until she was out of view of her husband.

"Dean," Jim began tentatively. "Try to meet her half way," he encouraged.

"She thought Sammy hurt her Jim," Dean answered hotly. "He wouldn't hurt her, not ever."

"Dean, you've known Sam his entire life and you've been with him through everything that has happened to him. Julie is still new to this family and she was just being a mother. Her child was in peril and she lashed out … looked for blame because she was scared."

"It never crossed my mind Jim … I mean I yelled at Sam when he tried to pick her up and then …" Jim chuckled.

"He body checked you in order to get to her," Jim filled in the blank he knew Dean had left off.

"Yeah," Dean said with a grin. "He's never acted like that before. And, after what you told us … about what he remembered from when Catie was born, man, it's a miracle or something."

"Talk to your wife Dean," Jim encouraged. "Never go to bed angry. You love her don't you?"

"Jim," Dean admonished.

"Well, do you?"

"Of course."

"Dean, she was a worried out of her mind mother lashing out. She needed to blame someone or something and Sam happened to be the unlucky winner. Now, don't forget who was there for you after the car accident. Who sat with Sam and watched over him while you and I were with your Dad?"

"Jules," Dean answered softly.

"Go talk to her," Jim encouraged softly. "You know she loves Sammy, too. She was just upset."

Dean walked into the kitchen and saw Julie sitting at the small kitchen breakfast table wiping tears impatiently from her face. He sat down across from her and put a hand on her knee. "I'm sorry," he paused. "It's just what you said to Sammy … what you implied," he spoke softly. "He'd never hurt Catie and you know it."

"I know," she lamented. "Dean, I don't even know where it came from," she voiced with trepidation. "I just saw Caitlin and my world stopped. I know Sam would never hurt her," she paused. "Intentionally, but Dean you forget he isn't…"

"He's not what Jules? Normal…" his voice trailed off.

"That's not what I said …. He has special needs Dean and we both know intellectually and emotionally he's a child in a man's body and no matter what he will never be capable of making adult decisions and …"

"Stop, okay?" Dean complained. "I don't need you to explain my brother to me Jules. I know his limitations and I also know that he saved our daughters life. You saw it with your own eyes and you can't deny he did what needed to be done … what we weren't doing for her and if that doesn't make him capable of adult decisions then nothing ever will."

"You're right," she conceded. "I know what I saw and he did save our little girl. They've always had this …"

"Bond," Dean suggested.

"Yes," she allowed a smile to creep across her face. "But," she hesitated. "It just scares me sometimes it's like they can read one another … an unspoken language or something … I was wrong, but how can I fix it?" She lamented. "He won't even look at me."

"Go talk to him. Sam will listen Jules. You should have seen what I just saw when I went to check on him and Catie. She was sound to sleep in his arms and he was humming to her. They're good for each other Jules."

A few minutes later Julie gently pushed open the door to her daughter's nursery. "Sam," she whispered softly. He looked up and stood slowly with his niece in his arms. He walked to her crib and without a word he gently placed her in her crib being careful not to wake her. He placed her on her back and covered her with the blanket he had swaddled her in while he held her. He turned and faced Julie. He dropped his eyes and kept his voice low.

"I not do anything wrong. She asleep." He answered in a low whisper. His eyes were still not meeting Julie's.

"Sam, I'm sorry," she whispered. "How about we take a walk around the block and talk a little." Sam looked up at her and saw the softness in her eyes. "Please," she replied. He nodded and they left the room quietly.

**One Month Later, August 21, 2004, Jim's House**

Sam scooted on his knees across the wood floor of the parlor while Caitlin grasped his fingers eagerly while she toddled on shaky legs. She would toddle short distances and giggled incessantly. "Hhh…happy Birthday, Cat," Sam smiled. "You One year old today." She laughed.

"Babu!"

Dean chuckled as he sat and watched his brother play with his daughter. Julie was in the kitchen helping Jim with lunch. "You know Sammy," Dena started. "One day she'll actually be able to call you Uncle Sammy rather than Babu all the time."

"Like Babu … her name for me," he answered. "It special. Only me Babu," Sam answered honestly.

"Well, that's the truth. So, how's your day camp been going during the week?" Dean asked. During the summers when the Drake Academy didn't hold classes Dean had enrolled Sam in a camp for special education young adults and children. The camp was large and they arranged the children in their proper age groups. Sam fell in the 19-23 year olds and he seemed to flourish in the camp activities that included learning, rehab and fun activities and sports. His brother was twenty-one now, but his cognitive and developmental tests in the last few months put him at the learning level of a delayed fifteen or sixteen year old now. Dean accepted a long time ago that his brother would always need some kind of help in making decisions and managing his life but he'd do anything he could to see that Sam gained as much independence as he could. He owed his brother the best chance at a fulfilled life and whatever that entailed.

"Dada," Caitlin bubbled as she toddled to her father with out stretched hands.

"Hey, Punkie," Dean cooed. "How's daddy's birthday girl?" He scooped her up and sat her on a knee. She bounced up and down of her own accord.

"Horsie," she blurted. Dean laughed. He bounced her gently on his knee. She laughed. Sam was always talking words to her when they spent time together in a way it was as if they were teaching each other. He and Julie had both noticed that Caitlin picked up things quickly but exceptionally so when Sam would point at something and say a word.

**A Little Over One Year Later, October 31, 2005**

"Thanks for doing this Jim," Dean replied. "It's not often me and Jules get to go out."

"Enjoy the Halloween party. It looks like Sam and Caitlin are already entertaining each other. I've got the candy and I'll take care of any trick or treaters that may show up."

"Are you kidding Jim," Julie laughed. "We live in suburbia. We went through two bags last year and tapped a third we had so many here at the house. Thanks for coming to our place though to watch Caitlin for us. She'll be ready to go down in about another half hour or so. She's been fed and had her bath. Might need a diaper change before bed, but…"

"Got it covered," Jim answered easily.

"We won't be late," she replied.

"Hey, you kids take your time. We'll be here when you're ready to come home."

"Thanks Jim," Dean said warmly. "I have my cell, so if you need to…"

"Go to the party Dean," Jim urged with a smile. Dean rolled his eyes.

**Three Hours Later**

Jim sat watching the ten o' clock news. The house was quiet. Caitlin had been put down a while ago and last Jim checked was sleeping soundly. Sam had crashed on his own bed in his room. When Caitlin had been born they had turned the third bedroom into a nursery getting rid of the in home office. Dean and Julie didn't want to convert Sam's room for Caitlin. It was his place when he came here.

Jim's attention was pulled from the TV when he heard a strange noise from down the hallway. It sounded like a strangled grunt and then he heard a quiet thump, thump noise. He got up and went looking. It didn't take but a second to realize the noise was coming from Sam's room. There was a small corner lamp on that illuminated the room in a soft light. Sam looked like he was in extreme pain as he thrashed and kept bumping the headboard causing it to thump the wall lightly. Jim rushed to Sam's side and turned on the bedside lamp. Sam's eyes were rolling around and his pupil's were wide almost blown looking. "Sam!" Jim spoke urgently. He tried to snap Sam out of whatever was happening but his eyes continued to roam unseeing and his pupil's were large and almost swallowed the iris's of his eyes completely. "Lord in heaven," Jim ran from the room and dialed 911.

_911 what's your emergency?_

"My nephew," Jim hurried. "I think he's having a seizure or something, please I need an ambulance." Jim was still holding the cordless phone as he hurried back to Sam's side. Sam was still thrashing and there was a sheen of sweat covering his face. His eyes were still rolling and unfocused.

_A unit is being dispatched. Is he breathing? If he is thrashing try to keep anything he could hurt himself on away from him._

"He's breathing," Jim answered. "Please, his eyes they are just rolling around … he looks like he's in pain … but he isn't responding. He was asleep. He was fine."

_Help will be there shortly. Does he have any health problems? Seizure disorder?_

"No, seizures," Jim assured. "He suffered a brain injury when he was a child. He's delayed but he's healthy. His doctor is on staff at Blue Earth … Dr. Kirk Odden.

_How old is your nephew sir?_

"He's twenty-two, he turned twenty-two six months ago," Jim was frantic as Sam's eyes snapped closed suddenly and he drew in a strangled gasp as if he were taking his final breath before dying. "Sammy!" Sam fell still and no longer thrashed. His eyes remained closed.

_Sir, is he still breathing?_

Jim leaned frantically toward Sam and was relieved to feel the light brush of air against his ear. "Yes," he let out a breath. "The seizure or whatever it was stopped. I hear the sirens now." He saw the flashing lights outside. "They're here."

Sam started to stir as the paramedics were putting him on a gurney and assessing his condition. He squinted and pulled away from someone lifting an eyelid and shining a bright light into his eye. "Sammy, it's okay," Jim comforted as he held Caitlin in his arms. She had woken up when the paramedics arrived.

"No," Sam slurred. "Have to stop…" his voice was distracted and confused.

"No, Sam. They are going to help you. It's okay. Relax."

"No! Ddd…Dean and Jjj..Julie have to stop…" he forced out. The pain in his head was spitting but he knew what he'd seen … flashes of pictures and sounds. He didn't understand any of it but he knew enough to know what he had seen was bad. A convenience store … a man with a gun … he saw Dean and Julie shot … both lying in pools of spreading blood. He saw Dean struggling … dragging himself across the floor toward Julie. There was a sickening thick trail of blood Dean left behind as he drug himself. Julie's eyes were open and unseeing … a gaping bullet wound in her neck … her head surrounded in a halo of bright red blood. "Ssss….seven eleven … no go after party… no go," Sam yelled in a panic. The white hot pain in his head finally taking him into oblivion and he lost consciousness.

"He's out," one paramedic shouted. "Call ahead to Blue Earth and tell them we have a suspected seizure. Patient was combative and incoherent when he regained consciousness and is now unconscious again. Jim watched as the medic's rolled Sam out of his room. Sam hadn't made any sense but there was a needling feeling working up Jim's spine. He pulled his cell out as he grabbed a set of spare keys for Julie's car, so he could use a car seat for Caitlin. He pulled his phone out and called Dean as he followed the ambulance to the hospital.

'Hello?" Dean answered.

"Dean? It's Jim, where are you two?"

"Uh? Oh, yeah, I know we're late, sorry. We were low on diapers, so we're just stopping at the 7 Eleven, we'll be …."

"Dean!" Jim shouted. "No! Don't, I'll explain later," Jim rushed on. "Look Sam's being taken to the hospital … I don't know it looked like he had some kind of seizure … I'm not sure. I have Caitlin with me," Jim assured.

"Sammy? God, Jim, okay, we'll meet you at the hospital." Julie looked at him in alarm.

"What happened?" Julie visibly paled.

"Jim said he thinks Sammy had some kind of seizure. He's being taken to the hospital. Jim has Catie with him."

**Three Hours Later, ICU**

"I don't understand," Dean practically hissed. "My brother is unconscious and had what looked like a seizure but you can't find anything wrong on the MRI or the other tests you've run tonight."

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Belaz began.

"Dean."

"Okay, Dean, I know this is frustrating but we have more test to run. Your brother is stable and resting."

"He's unconscious," Dean asserted.

"Yes, but he is responding to painful stimuli and he's making purposeful movements. His reaction isn't uncommon after certain kinds of seizures."

"But, you're not even sure he had one, right?"

"Well, his pupil's have normalized but as I stated when he arrived at the ER his pupil's were very dilated … I have some more tests to run in the morning."

"I want to see him," Dean had only been able to see his brother through a glass partition and needed to be in there with him.

"Of course, he should regain consciousness soon and he could be disorientated, so…"

"I can handle it."

**The Next Morning, Blue Earth Guardian Newspaper Headline, November 1, 2005**

**Shooting at Local 7 Eleven Ends in Tragedy **

_Blue Earth's peaceful Halloween night was shattered by a solitary gunshot at the 7 Eleven on Locust Blvd. The convenience store was robbed shortly before eleven last night. The gunman was caught on closed circuit security cameras. The assailant was shown on the tape walking into the store he brandished the gun at the clerk who was alone and without hesitation shot the clerk point blank killing, Trevor Lineman, 20 of Blue Earth instantly. Sheriff Cobalt was quoted as saying, "As unfortunate as this is, I must be thankful no patrons walked in during the robbery or this could have become even more tragic and senseless than it already is. We will find the gunman and have a leads we are following up on." _

**Four Days Later, Jim's House **

"I tell you already," Sam lamented. "I see pictures. I hear things. I see bad things. You and Jjj..Julie … blood …" Sam grew more and more agitated at trying to recollect the premonition dream he had had that turned into a waking vision of blood, death and pain before he had passed out.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean calmed him. "I don't understand what happened, but something tells me you saved our lives. Sam," Dean's voice took on a quiet but serious tone, "Other than Jim, Julie or me … I don't want you ever telling anyone about this, okay?" Sam nodded. Dean was concerned for his little brother. The doctor had released Sam two days ago from the hospital when further tests could find nothing wrong and there were no other episodes.

"Did I do bad?"

"No, no," Dean assured and put an arm around his brother. "You didn't do anything wrong Sammy. It's just I'm not sure people would understand ya know. It's our secret."

"I good at sss…secrets," Sam said with a smile. "Play with Cat now," he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Sure Sammy."

Dean leaned back on the couch and looked at his wife. "Man, it's a good thing I got this week for vacation," Dean breathed. "I don't think I could have kept my mind on anything."

"Dean, what Sam saw …" Julie's voice was hesitant. "It would have happened … but I don't understand how…"

"Dean," Jim began. "It's been easy all these years to forget your past … the hunting … the demon, but it's always been there and maybe…"

"What? You think the thing that killed my mom and ruined our lives that night is to blame for this … Sammy's not evil, Jim."

"I know that," Jim admonished. "That boy doesn't have a dark bone in his body, but what I am saying is that maybe Sammy was always special … touched … maybe this is why that evil thing visited that night …" he paused. "It makes sense about Sam's ability or gift whatever you want to call it … he knew Caitlin was in trouble. He felt it and went to her." Dean nodded. "But that thing … the demon…"

"Nothin' is touchin' him," Dean's voice was angry and protective. "He's innocent Jim. I mean … he's a kid in a man's body … why would evil want him?"

"Because evil is drawn to innocence and its power," Jim spoke quietly, so Sam didn't hear in the other room. "Innocence is more powerful than evil can even imagine."

"I won't let it have him. I won't."

"Dean there has always been a network in place to insure yours and Sam's protection but especially Sammy's … your father only ever hunted that one other time after Sam's injury but he always kept up on leads for the thing, the demon that killed your mother. He has made sure that should you or Sam ever need protection from that evil thing you would have it. I'll call Caleb and Joshua."

"Jim," Dean cast a worried glance from him to Julie and to the room beyond where his sibling and young two-year old daughter played. "This doesn't get near my family, none of it. I don't want that for Caitlin, for Jules…"

"Dean," Julie spoke up. "Look you were honest about what your family did. I never really understood it and thought you were nuts until I saw that thing that night…"

"Rawhead, honey," Dean said with a wry smile.

"Whatever," she replied. "All I remember is that you turned it to a pile of red goo with a live wire and some water."

"Well, you weren't supposed to be with me that night, it was a fluke, I knew I had to take care of it, but…"

"It was a long time ago Dean," Julie said with a raised hand. "Part of me is glad I know that there are things out there in the dark and then there is the half of me that wishes I had no clue, but we have to deal with this …"

"I know."

"Babu!" Caitlin shrieked. It was a panicked shriek not her usual happy bubble of a voice. Dean was already moving quickly to the parlor with Jim and Julie close behind. Sam was lying on the floor, his body rigid while his face looked blank and impassive. His eyes swam rapidly, unfocused, while his pupil's dilated.

"Oh God, Sammy!" Dean was on his knees next to his brother. "Sam!"

"It's happening again," Jim crouched next to Sam and watched. "He thrashed before …"

"Should I call an ambulance?" Julie hovered nearby holding Caitlin and comforting her and quieting her tears. "Shh, sweetie," she spoke gently.

"No, wait," Dean urged. "Sammy? Please, come on …" Dean ran a trembling hand through his brother's unruly long hair. "Sammy?" There was a sharp intake of air and Sam's eyes slammed closed.

"That happened before," Jim added quickly. "Wait…"

Sam woke suddenly in a panic and lashed out. Dean and Jim both held him down. Each man held an arm and kept one hand pressing down on his chest. "Easy Sammy," Dean spoke soothingly trying to calm his brother.

"Bbb…bad man … gun … blood… hhh….hurt people…"

"No, no Sammy," Dean replied. "The bad man is gone. The police will find him."

"No," Sam was insistent. "I see … I see Jjj…Jolly Green Giant … Mmm….Mr. Bbb…Baker … blood …" Dean creased his forehead in concern.

"Baker's Deli?" Dean clarified. Sam nodded.

"Bbb… bad man from before … blood … make stop …" Sam's voice was desperate. Dean cast worried eyes to Jim.

"I'm on it Dean," Jim was out of the room quickly he needed to make a phone call.

**One Day Later, Headline for the Blue Earth Guardian Newspaper**

**Gunman linked to 7 Eleven Robbery and Homicide Killed by an On-Duty Officer**

_On November 5, 2005, Sheriff Cobalt was quoted as saying "It makes me damn proud to live in a city where we all try to look out for one another. I'm glad that the footage of the gunman we've been showing that was caught on tape has paid off. I want to thank the private citizen that called in to out tip line and said they thought they saw a man fitting that description lurking around Baker's Deli. We were able to station an undercover cop inside and it proved to be a fruitful stake out. My officer acted appropriately and when his life was threatened he was forced to return fire and use lethal force. I believe the ballistics tests from the gunman's gun will match up to the bullet taken from Trevor Lineman." It appears that Blue Earth escaped yet another senseless act of violence. The gunman has been identified as Lincoln Meeps, 22 from Seattle, Washington. Upon locating his remaining family, a physically disabled aunt, we have found out that after the death of his mother in a fire occurring in his nursery when he was an infant and his father took his own life when Lincoln was thirteen forcing him into the foster care system where he began to act out and become increasingly violent causing him to spend most of his youth in a juvenile detention facility. A Sad ending to a young life gone wrong._

"Did you see the paper this morning," Julie asked as she walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, I already called Jim."

"That gunman … his mother died the same way yours did didn't she?" Dean swallowed thickly.

"Yeah."

"What's does it all mean?"

"I don't know, but Jim's calling Caleb and some other family friends from back in the day. We'll figure it out."

**To Be Continued **

**I hope you liked this chapter. I know it was long, and I appreciate you sticking with it despite the bulky length. One chapter left. The final chapter is written, but I think I will tweak it just a little in a couple spots, so I'll post it this coming week. Thanks again for reading!!**


	10. Something Lost but Something Gained

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **This chapter comes with another **WARNING** as it involves a character death. This chapter will contain big leaps in time frames that were necessary; otherwise this story would go on forever. I wanted to thank every reader who took the time to review or PM, thanks! Also, I wanted to say thanks to the readers who read and refrain from reviewing, I appreciate your readership, too! It's no mystery I prefer Limp!Sam stories, so perhaps that may come off as a kind of pigeon hole situation for a writer and it's not that I don't like to hurt Dean, I simply prefer the dynamics created with a hurt Sam and a protective Dean. I'm not saying I'll never write a story that is all or mostly hurt Dean, it could happen, but I'm more likely to hurt them both or just Sam, it's a toss up. So, for anyone that is put off by Sam being the constant 'hurt factor' in most if not all of my stories, I'm not sure what to say, I won't apologize for writing what I prefer and enjoy, however I hope that what I do write is enjoyed.

**Thanks once again for every reader who took the time to read this story.** It was the first after my long hiatus, but unfortunately it appears I may be headed into another long hiatus because of real life, but we'll see what I can swing. I appreciate every avid reader and reviewer! This chapter isn't a long haul like the last one … it's around 20 pages. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Chapter Ten**

**Something Lost but Something Gained**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Tears and fears and feeling proud to say 'I love you' right out loud, dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way … Something's lost but something's gained in living every day. I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose and still somehow, it's life's illusions I recall, I really don't know life at all."_ Excerpt by Joni Mitchell, _Both Sides Now _

**One Year Later, December 2006, Jim's House**

"It's been quiet Dean," Jim assured. "You know as well as I do that Sam hasn't had any visions for awhile."

"Yeah, but Caleb and Joshua both think Sammy might be linked to other kids … kids that the demon visited…"

"I think they may be right, but it appears his linking to them seems random and sporadic, so maybe we're in the clear, maybe…"

"Yeah, maybe, but what if the visions return? He had a few more after those first two," Dean lamented. "I'm just glad he isn't having seizures with them, I know we were thinkin' he was, but at least the doctors haven't been able to find any activity in his brain that shows a seizure disorder, but I hate that the visions cause him so much pain and they scare him to death."

"I know Dean," Jim comforted. "But, he's getting much better with them. He's not inconsolable afterward now and he's to the point he's just in a lot of pain but not losing consciousness. And, you know as well as I do when he's had anymore we forward the information to Caleb, Bobby and Joshua to check out. Sam will be taken care of Dean and your family too."

"What if the visions come back or get worse? You know Bobby has a theory that the visions are also tied to the yellow-eyed demon and Caleb exorcised that low level demon a couple months ago in New Orleans and it spoke of a coming war and children like Sammy. My little brother isn't going to be some damn pawn for that evil bastard. What if…" Dean's voice trailed off as he heard laughter in the front yard and looked out to see Sam trying his best to build a snowman with Julie and Caitlin bundled up on the porch watching.

"Then we'll deal with it," Jim replied as he followed Dean's eyes to the front porch.

"Careful Sam," Julie spoke from the porch. "You keep your gloves on or your fingers are going to freeze."

"It hard to make snowman," Sam complained as he stopped from taking his gloves off.

"Well, too bad Sammy," Julie complained. "It's too cold without them. Now, you stay here and I'm going to take Caitlin inside.

"Babu!" she waved at her uncle as she disappeared into the house. Sam smiled and waved back.

"Honey?" Dean walked into the foyer. "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah," Julie answered easily. "I just wanted to bring Catie in to warm up. You want to go out and keep an eye on Sam. He keeps trying to sneak and take his gloves off." Dean chuckled.

"Nothing new there," Dean commented. "He hated gloves as a kid, too. Yeah, I'll go. You stay inside and warm up.

Julie took Caitlin's snowsuit off and put her in her playpen. Jim sat down in his chair and surveyed Julie as she sat down on the couch. "How're you feeling these days?"

"I swear Jim … you and Dean both … you'd think I'd never been pregnant before. The morning sickness is finally gone, thank goodness." She placed her hand on top of her slightly swollen abdomen beneath her sweater. "May won't get here soon enough," she patted her stomach.

"Yes, only five more months and I get to meet the new little one," Jim looked up with a glint in his eye. "Dean told me about your latest ultrasound."

"Yes," she laughed. "I think no matter what a man says when he has a girl he sort of wishes he had a son and now that we know we're having a boy I know he's thrilled, although he tried to not let on. I mean, I know he loves and adores Caitlin, but a boy is a boy," she jested. Jim laughed.

"Here Sammy," Dean bent down and helped his brother roll and ball the thick snow. "See it's not so hard," he assured when he could see his brother getting frustrated with the snow.

"Ddd…Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"New bbb…baby a boy, right?"

"Yeah, did Julie tell you?"

"No, I just know."

"How?"

"He tell me, like Cat did." Dean stared at his sibling in awe. He was still amazed and unsettled toward his little brother's apparent psychic abilities. It scared him though that it left his brother open to an evil that wanted to covet what he was capable of, but things had been quiet and Jim's house and its land had been blessed. There were charms buried all over and Caleb and others had made sure the house was secure and safe from demons and other supernatural entities. Their old family friend Bobby Singer had come through and found a charm that Sam could wear that both warded off evil but also prevented possession. Sam wore it on a tied leather band on his wrist. He didn't really understand all the fuss and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

"Does he tell you anything else?" Dean queried.

"He coming on mm…my birthday," Sam commented as he patted the snow. Dean looked at him hard for a moment.

"You're birthday? But, he isn't due until May 20 the doctor said."

"It not right, ddd…doctor wrong." Sam stopped looked at is brother for a moment. "He say my birthday. He a present," Sam smiled and a laugh escaped. He sneezed suddenly and raised his gloved hand to wipe at his nose. Dean looked at his brother's red cheeks and nose. He may be twenty-three but like a kid who doesn't pay attention when he's too cold to stay out and play Sam was ignoring the cold weather.

"Come on, Sammy … Frosty here isn't going anywhere, let's get you inside and warmed up." Dean took a hold of his brother's arm. His mind still thinking about what Sam had said.

"Want to stay. Play," Sam complained.

"Later Sammy, come on. You'll get sick," he countered. "You want to be sick for Christmas?" Sam frowned and shook his head. "Okay, then, let's get you inside."

**May 2, 2007, Blue Earth Hospital, Labor and Delivery Unit**

Jonathon Samuel Winchester came into the world screaming and pink at 2:30 in the afternoon. Dean watched Julie sleep soundly in her bed while he held his son swaddled in a soft blanket. He knew Jim, Sam and Caitlin would be here in a couple hours to meet the new member of the family, but he was taking his time just staring at his little boy. He had a full head of hair and like his big sister shared the same chestnut slightly curled hair that resembled Sam's. He had Dean's chin and nose and his mother's blue-green eyes. "Hey there little man," Dean cooed. "I'm your daddy. Hi Johnny," he spoke softly. "We named you after your grandpa John. I'll tell you about him when you're old enough." The baby eyed his father with curiosity and puckered and pursed his lips. Dean smiled. "Hungry, huh?"

**Three Hours Later**

Sam sat in a chair with Caitlin curled tightly next to him as they both looked at the baby he held cradled in one arm against his chest. "He's small like a baby doll," Caitlin laughed. "I'm his big sister."

"You are," Sam answered. "But he not baby doll, so you have to be careful," Caitlin nodded and put her finger in his tiny bobbing hand and giggled when he grabbed onto it. Dean, Julie and Jim listened to Sam when he spoke to Caitlin. He was so good with her and despite his cognitive delays they trusted him without hesitation.

"Well," Jim began. "It seems Sam is more accurate than your obstetrician, eh?" Julie laughed.

"Well, on my last check-up he said he may have miscalculated John's due date, but hey, he's healthy and here, so that's all that counts." Julie responded.

"He's like the pied-piper of kids or something," Dean joked quietly to his wife and Jim. They laughed as they all watched Sam with his niece and new nephew. "Hey, Sammy," Dean looked at his brother with a warm smile.

"Hmm?" Sam said as he looked from the baby to his big brother.

"Happy Birthday kiddo. We'll celebrate with a party as soon as we can, okay? I didn't want you to think we forgot."

"I know," Sam nodded. "It Jjj…John's bbb…birthday, too."

"Yes, it is."

**Three Years Later, Jim's House, July 4, 2010**

Jim's place was busy with family and friends. Julie's parents and older brother had managed to come in for the Fourth of July weekend at Jim's. Dean had invited friends from BioTech and Julie had fellow law firm colleagues there, too. There was music playing outside and the grill was loaded with hamburgers and hot dogs. Sam had friends from school there with their parents, too, but Sam seemed busy enough keeping up with his three year old nephew and seven year old niece. "Here Sammy," Dean said as he picked up his son. "I'm going to put John down for a nap," Sam nodded. He had made a lot of progress in the past year and half with his schooling. His reading level had advanced to an eighth grade level but mathematics still hovered around fourth grade. Sam's vocabulary was still building but it was a slow process due to Sam's problems with association at times. His cognitive and decision making abilities had improved to the point the doctor's said Sam was closer to being a delayed sixteen or seventeen year old with deficits, but at times his reasoning still seemed much younger. Dean was proud of every achievement his little brother had.

"Uncle Sammy," Caitlin pulled on his t-shirt. "I want to go for a walk."

"Okay, we go," Sam noticed she was dragging her Barbie Mylar balloon he had given her that he picked out himself a week ago when at the store with Jim. It was losing air and bobbed mostly on the ground and when released would hover only a couple inches or so from the ground. "Want to leave bbb…balloon?"

"No," Caitlin answered quickly. "I love it." She pulled on the pink tie attached to the balloon. Sam smiled. "Come on Uncle Sammy, we can go walk down by the pond. I want to show you the tadpoles." Sam looked at her confused and she smiled. "Baby froggies Uncle Sammy," she added. Caitlin knew her Uncle was special and that some things he didn't understand and she always seemed to know when she should help him.

"Baby froggies … they tadpoles?" Sam responded.

"Yes, Uncle Sammy," Caitlin reached up and pulled her Uncle along with her.

A few minutes later, "See!" Caitlin bounced in excitement. "There they are!"

"I see … tiny," Sam stared at the black tadpoles swimming in a small run off from the pond. A strong breeze blew through and Caitlin shrieked as her balloon string ripped from her loose grip and her balloon settled out on the pond water.

"My balloon," Caitlin lamented. Sam looked at his distraught niece.

"Not far … I go get." Caitlin turned worried eyes to her Uncle. They both knew the rules no going in the pond without an adult around. She understood her Uncle was an adult but she knew her mommy and daddy had said Uncle Sammy's brain was different and he didn't think like an adult.

"No! I go get daddy and he can get it for me."

"I go … not deep," Sam pointed out. They had gone swimming in there just the previous weekend. Caitlin swam like a fish but Sam never went in without a jacket. There was a lengthy land shelf under the water and Sam's tall 6'4" height provided him a lot of clearance on the shelf, but the drop off came suddenly and the water beyond was a good twenty feet deep or so.

"No, Uncle Sammy," Caitlin put a small hand on her Uncle's arm and gently squeezed.

"I go out and back."

"You'll get all wet," she countered.

"I dry off after, I even bare foot already," Sam responded and walked into the water.

"No! Uncle Sammy, wait! Daddy say not allowed in water without your special vest," she watched with anxiety as Sam made his way out on the land shelf. She watched him stretch his hand out toward the floating balloon. He took another step to grasp the balloon and his right foot slipped off the shelf and when he twisted to regain his balance his other foot dropped off and he went under. He splashed to the surface, choking on swallowed water. "Babu!" she screamed as her uncle went under again and resurfaced. His frantic kicking and arm swinging had only worked to move him further from the safety of the land shelf. He went under again and surfaced briefly. "Babu!" Caitlin hadn't used her old nickname for her uncle in a long time. She watched her Sam drop below the surface once again, but he didn't come back up," she stared in horror before she took off running for the house. She came running into the backyard screaming with tears running down her face.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Dean turned instantly at his daughter's yells. He knew something was wrong.

"Punkie what is it?" The party stopped while Dean bent down to console his child.

"Babu," she shrieked. "Balloon … pond…. Uncle Sammy go in to get … please," she begged, her fractured and frantic speech was a dead give away to the seriousness of what was happening. Dean felt his stomach drop to his feet and his blood ran cold.

"Oh, God, no. Julie call an ambulance," he started running toward the pond followed by Jim, and Julie's older brother Nick, who was a physician with _Doctors Without Borders_ left at a run to help, others followed. Dean reached the pond in record time and quickly saw out in the pond his brother's lifeless body floating face down in the pond. He ran into the water and quickly swum out to his brother. Nick ran into the shallows to help Dean with Sam's lanky frame. Harold, one of Jim's friends, an off-duty firefighter came into view to help Nick with Sam. Jim pulled Dean back to allow Nick and Harold to work on Sam.

Nick leaned over Sam while simultaneously checking for a carotid pulse. "He's got a pulse," he answered quickly. "Weak." He arched Sam's head back quickly and gave him two long breaths and watched his chest rise and fall. He repeated the action for a full minute and when he checked Sam's pulse again, he didn't feel the weak thump against his finger tips any longer. He dug deeper more desperate with his fingers, but still felt nothing, "dammit, lost his pulse."

"I'll do compressions," Harold answered quickly. "You take over respirations." Both professionals worked in tandem to save Sam's life. Dean watched in horror. His mind pleading quietly _Not like this Sammy … please … fight … I can't lose you …_

The paramedics arrived within several minutes and Nick started barking orders for cardiac meds and was demanding Sam be hooked up to a heart monitor. It took Nick only seconds to determine Sam was in ventricular fibrillation and applied the portable defibrillator to Sam's now exposed and dried off chest. "Charge to 300," he ordered. "Clear!" The paramedic lifted the ambu bag away from Sam's mouth and nose. Sam's body jerked to the delivered charge.

"Got a rhythm," Harold called out excitedly when he saw the staccato arching lines on the heart monitor. The paramedic continued to ventilate Sam when Nick noticed a bit of water coming from Sam's mouth.

"Suction," he barked and quickly suctioned Sam's mouth. The paramedic delivered a couple more forceful ventilations and Sam tensed and began coughing. Nick roughly rolled his patient and relative on his side. "That's it Sam come back to us," he encouraged. "Let's get him on a backboard and out of here now." Sam's breathing was weak but was better than the alternative. His eyes remained closed. Dean felt sick to his stomach as he watched Sam lifted and carried toward the house and the waiting ambulance. He had almost lost his brother to drowning a second time.

Jim drove Dean to the hospital behind the ambulance. Julie stayed at the house with the children and the remaining family and friends.

**Outside the ER, Ambulance Bay**

The ambulance rolled in and Dean was already out of the car before Jim could fully stop to let Dean out at the door while he parked. Nick jumped out of the ambulance looking stressed. Jim felt his gut clench as he noticed they had started compressions once again on Sam, "Oh, Lord, no…" he watched as Dean ran beside the gurney into the hospital.

"No! I gotta be with him," Dean barked as Nick held him back.

"Dean it's better if you stay here. I'll wait with you. I can't go in either." Nick had given the ER doctor the details of Sam's condition before passing his care off to the man.

"What happened?" Dean choked out as he stared at the closed swinging trauma doors. "His heart was beating … he was breathing…"

"He developed an arrhythmia in the ambulance," Nick answered. "Dean," he began tentatively. Dean knew that voice, that doctor tone he'd heard more than once in reference toward his brother and even his father after the car accident.

"Don't," Dean ground out. "Sammy's gonna be okay."

"Dean, you have to be prepared," he spoke softly. "He wasn't responding to the cardiac drugs or our attempts to shock him back into a rhythm."

"I'm not preparing for a damn thing other than they're going to come out here and tell me he's going to be okay."

**Inside the Trauma Room**

"Any change," Dr. Bolton looked up to the monitors and frowned. "He had a pulse before they left in the ambulance?" he asked.

"Yes, they had successful cardioversion at the location," Gayle, a nurse confirmed.

"Dr. Bolton, you want to push another atropine?" His intern, Dr. Kyle Johnson asked.

"Yeah, let's try it," he kept up with vigorous compressions. He looked at the heart monitor and saw the persistent asystole, flat line on the screen. He could see the lengthy thin scar that ran down his patient's chest from the top of his sternum to below it. "Is there a history of cardiac trouble?"

"No, but we have records on him from a previous car accident. His chest was cracked here in the ER for an aortic bleed." Gayle replied and Dr. Bolton nodded.

"Atropine in," Dr. Johnson replied as Dr. Bolton continued compressions.

"Okay, holding compressions," he looked at the monitor and saw activity. "We got V-fib," he commented urgently. "Charge to 360. Clear!"

**Forty Minutes Later, The ER Waiting Room**

Jim and Nick both flanked Dean in the waiting chairs as they waited. The doors to the trauma area swung open and Dean recognized the doctor that had taken over CPR on his brother as he rolled through the doors earlier. "Sam, how is he?" he stood and asked quickly dispensing with formalities and introductions. The doctor took the cue.

"We got his heart beating again," he assured. "We're monitoring him for additional arrhythmias, but he seems to be doing alright now. I think it may have been an arrhythmia brought on by low blood oxygen levels and shock."

"Is he awake?"

"Not yet, but he's responding to stimuli which considering the long term arrest is a positive sign for him."

"What about his lungs," Nick injected his voice. "Are they clear?"

"His respirations are labored but we've started him on some medications to help and he's on an oxygen mask right now."

"No ventilator," Nick pressed.

"No, not yet. His levels are low, but not low enough to warrant a vent, not yet."

"What's his neurological status? You're aware he suffered a brain injury when he was a child, also a drowning," Nick continued. He was all business as a member of his sister's family and his was in jeopardy. Dean and Jim listened.

"His pupil's were a bit sluggish, but his status has improved. He responds to painful stimuli and all tests are pointing in positive directions. I don't anticipate any further brain injury to compound what is already present." Dean let out a nervous sigh at hearing the news.

"I want to see my brother," Dean's tone brooked no argument.

"Of course, we have him in ICU for observation its standard procedure after a cardiac or respiratory arrest. And, once his lungs sound clear and his oxygen levels normalize I'll move him to our stepdown unit. I expect he'll probably regain consciousness within a few hours or so … give or take. His condition is listed as guarded right now." Nick nodded.

**Two Months Later, September 2010, Jim's House**

"Dean?" Julie spoke as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Jim called and said the conference in Minneapolis ran over, so he's driving back tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah? Who'd think there was that much to conference about for a religious thing," he grinned. Julie laughed.

"I don't think Jim would appreciate you referring to his national conference as a religious thing, he was a key note speaker after all, on …" she tried to remember what exactly. "Oh, the modernization of the Latin Mass, that's it," she snapped her fingers. Dean looked at his wife and chuckled.

"Or lack there of," Dean commented wryly. "Jim's pretty cool but he's old school when it comes to mass." Julie nodded.

"Daddy, Johnny hurt my Barbie," Caitlin came out of parlor room at Jim's. Dean and Julie had been house sitting and watching Sam while Jim was gone for his four day conference. Dean was glad it was Friday and BioTech had closed for a long weekend to lay new floors in the lobby and offices. Dean looked down at his seven year old daughter and saw the clearly now headless Barbie body. He bit down a laugh.

"Well, Punkie," he started as he took the injured Barbie remains from his daughter. "I'm sure he didn't mean to," he looked into the parlor and saw his four year-old son using the head in his version of bumper cars as he kept slamming his tiny toy cars into the head like an odd game of shuffle board. John was laughing as the Barbie head bounced between cars.

"He did too, he drives me nuts," she complained. Dean grinned he remembered when Sam was that age and would drive him around the bend on occasion.

"Yeah, I know, but you're his big sister, so…" Caitlin looked at her father with appraising eyes and sighed. "What?" he said innocently.

"You always say that," she reasoned. "I know I'm his big sister, but he's still driving me nuts," sometimes Dean was amazed at his daughter. She was well spoken and quick as a whip in intellect and wit. She was a little bit of him and Julie and in more ways than one a whole lot of Sam… the Sam before the lake accident.

"I'll fix it, okay?" Dean walked into the parlor. "Johnny?" His son looked up and smiled at his father.

"Daddy," he squealed. He dropped what he was playing with and stood up raising his arms for his father to pick him up. "Up Daddy, Up." Dean picked his son up and then sat down on the nearest chair switching his son to his knee. He bent over slightly and picked up the left behind and slightly battered Barbie head.

"Look little man," Dean started. "This belongs to your big sister. It's not nice to hurt her toys, okay?"

"Not hurt," John replied. "Only play," he assured.

"No more, this isn't nice," Dean countered.

The father son debate was interrupted by Caitlin's excited claps and then Dean heard the school shuttle. He glanced at the large Grandfather clock and new it was time for Sam to be home from school. "Daddy! Uncle Sammy's home," Caitlin bounded toward the front door. John smiled with a toothy grin and clapped.

"Babu," he squirmed in his father's lap to join his big sister to meet his Uncle. John had adopted his big sister's nickname for Sam a while ago. Dean released his son.

"Okay, geez," he looked up and saw Julie watching with an amused smile. "Well, I know where I rank in my own kids eyes, huh?"

"Well," Julie hedged as she walked up to Dean and ran her hand behind his ear brushing against his hair. "You're just not Babu," she laughed. Dean pulled Julie against himself and kissed her.

Sam made his way up the driveway and saw Caitlin and John coming to meet him. He saw how Caitlin held her little brother's hand as he navigated the gravel driveway that could cause some tricky foot placements sometimes. When they were close enough she let go and launched herself at Sam. "Uncle Sammy, I missed you all day," she wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up and she kissed him on the cheek.

"I miss you too," he answered. He felt a tug on his jeans and looked down at his nephew. John looked up and smiled.

"Babu," he raised his hands and bobbed them up and down. Sam kissed Caitlin back and then put her down as he picked up his nephew and gave him a hug. John planted a wet sloppy kiss right on his cheek. "Love you, Babu," John replied.

"Love you, too," Sam replied. "We go inside," he put John down and held Caitlin's hand as she held her little brother's.

"How was your day at school Uncle Sammy?" Caitlin questioned. "What did you learn?"

"Fun today," Sam spoke. "We learn lots. I hate math." Caitlin smiled.

"I love numbers Uncle Sammy," she replied. "What'd you do today?"

"Play grocery store and have to read list," Sam frowned. "I not know some names and we count fff…fruit and sss….subtract fff…fruit." He was in an elementary level math class that utilized real life scenarios and hands on learning.

"You'll get it," Caitlin smiled at her uncle. "Counting can be hard," she assured when she saw that her uncle was bothered by his difficulties. "You have homework?" Sam nodded.

"I can help," she offered. "But, I know Daddy will probably want to," she smiled suddenly. "You want to practice reading my book with me tonight for bedtime?" Sam smiled and nodded at his niece. "Good." She looked at her uncle for a long moment. "Is your head okay today Uncle Sammy?" Sam nodded. "I'm glad," Caitlin replied. Her uncle had had one of his episodes the other night and it was always followed by her dad and grandpa Jim talking on the phone a lot to people she didn't really know and rarely got to meet because her dad never allowed her around when they were around. However, she knew their names and that they were good friends to her father and grandpa, she listened to everything she could. She knew their names were Caleb, Bobby, Joshua and Jefferson. Things seemed to be taken care of quickly and her uncle handled the pain of his headaches but she still worried about him. She had asked her father about the men once, and he'd only ever said, '_they're good friends Catie and when you're older I'll tell you about them.'_

**Later that Night**

Dean walked down the hallway to collect Sam who hadn't gone to bed yet. The house was quiet. The children had all had their bath time and had been put to bed. Sam had read with Caitlin. Dean smiled to himself when he thought back to how his daughter is with her uncle she would help him with words he couldn't read or had trouble pronouncing. Dean walked into the kitchen and watched Sam labor over his math homework. His brother was hunched over his page of homework with his forehead propped in a hand. "Hey Sammy," Dean spoke lightly. "How about you take a break and try tomorrow. It's the weekend now, so you've got time. It's past your bed time." Dean had tried to help Sam earlier but his brother had wanted to try on his own. It was only four math problems but for Sam it might as well have been fifty.

"I not understand," Sam looked up and that's when Dean saw the flushed cheeks and watery eyes. Sam had been crying.

"Oh, hey kiddo," he comforted. "Now, this isn't worth getting upset over, we'll do it together, okay?"

"Not get," Sam rubbed angrily at his cheeks as he felt tears roll down his face.

"You will," Dean assured. "Let me see what you've got going on," he sat down and pulled a chair next to his little brother. He could see it was a straight forward word problem involving addition and subtraction. "Okay," he started to read. "If Susan buys eight apples at the store and gives three to Mark and two to Nancy, how many apples does Susan have left?" Sam looked at his brother with confused eyes and a tight jaw. "Easy, Sammy, it's okay," Dean comforted. "Let's try it this way … use your fingers for this one Sammy. Can you show me eight fingers?"

Sam sat there for a moment and then lifted one hand extending five fingers and then he lifted his other hand showing his brother another three fingers. "This eight," he replied with a hopeful smile.

"Great job kiddo, now that's how many apples Susan bought at the store, okay?" Sam nodded and looked at his fingers. "Now, put down your hands and show me three fingers," Dean encouraged. Sam complied. "Great, now put those down," Sam did. "Now, show me two fingers." Sam lifted two fingers. "Perfect Sammy," he congratulated. "Now, show me eight fingers again," Sam did. "Good, now if those eight fingers are eight apples and Susan gives three to Mark that means she's not going to have them anymore Sam. So, keep your eight fingers and put down three fingers and those will be the three apples to Mark," Sam looked at his fingers and tentatively lowered three leaving only one hand in the air. Dean smiled. "Yep, you're right," he encouraged. "Now, Susan has five apples left just like you have five fingers left, but she gives two more apples to Nancy, so that's two more fingers you take away," Sam lowered two more fingers and looked at his hand. "How many fingers do you have left Sammy?"

"Three," Sam answered with a dimpled smile. "I have three."

"So, how many apples does Susan have left?"

"Three," Sam answered excitedly. Dean smiled and put an arm around Sam's broad shoulders.

"You did good, kiddo. See that wasn't anything to be upset about, huh? We figured it out didn't we?"

"Yeah," Sam answered quietly.

"Now, we'll do the rest tomorrow, okay? It's late Sammy and it's time for you to go to bed."

"Ddd..Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Ccc…can we go park ttt…tomorrow?" Dean thought about and it had been a mild September with pleasant weather, so far.

"Sure Sammy, how about we all have a picnic. I'll talk to Julie." Sam smiled.

"When Uncle Jim home?"

"Tomorrow, sometime. You miss him?" Sam nodded.

"I love Uncle Jim," Sam answered honestly. "Love you, too," Sam added as he looked at his big brother.

"Yeah, me too kiddo," Dean stood up. "Come on bed time Sammy. You brush your teeth already?" He knew his brother had taken his shower already.

"All clean," Sam answered. Dean nodded and walked his little brother to his room and tucked him in. Sam may be a grown man in people's eyes but for Dean, now it just seemed like he was still taking care of a much younger brother and he'd stopped seeing his brother's true size a long time ago.

"Dean?" Julie's voice called him to the guest bedroom. He smiled and suddenly felt content … his family was healthy and safe, and he was thankful everyday that he hadn't lost his little brother two months ago … things were quiet … things were good.

**Two Months Later, November 10, 2010, Jim's House**

"Uncle Jim I play good," Sam spoke excitedly from the kitchen table.

"Yes, you did," Jim agreed with a smile. "You're the star of your T-ball team. You're a good hitter." Jim looked forward to every other Friday because Sam's T-Ball team for children with disabilities would play against teams from surrounding cities that had disabled youth leagues. Dean and Julie always brought the kids and they sat in the stands cheering for Sam. During the winter months they played in a large indoor facility, so the kids didn't have to play in the elements.

"Good hhh…hitter," Sam mimicked. "No run good." Jim turned and looked at the young man he considered his nephew.

"Hey, listen here young man, what have I told you about things being harder, hmm?"

"You say mmm…might be harder, but I keep trying and always do bbb…best and that is good enough."

"That's right," Jim agreed. "Sammy, some things are harder for you, but you have a wonderful spirit and you never give up, okay? As long as you always do your very best then that is all you can ask of yourself, okay?" Sam nodded.

"I kkk….keep trying," he added. Jim touched Sam's face with an open palm.

"Now, that's a Winchester. You're daddy would be proud."

"Miss him," Sam spoke quietly. "I talk to him but he never talk back."

"He's far away Sammy but he can hear you, though, I'm sure of it."

"Not mind … I know he listen," Sam looked at Jim with wide innocent eyes. Jim felt his heart swell. "Uncle Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Want another doggie since Duncan went to doggie heaven," Sam looked at Jim.

"I miss Duncan too Sammy, maybe we will, let's wait until spring and maybe we will get a new puppy." Sam smiled.

"Thh…thank you," Sam's dimpled smile was more than enough for Jim.

"It's late kiddo … I think it's time for bed," he had had Sam take his shower earlier and brush his teeth. He was clad in sweat pants and his favorite Darth Vader t-shirt he had seen on a shopping trip to Target with Dean for clothes and had begged for it. Jim still chuckled at the site of it. It was a black t-shirt with a white outline drawing of Darth Vader and it had the words _Vader was framed_ under the picture. Sam didn't understand the humor or even what it meant, but Jim and Dean both thought it was funny. Jim showed Sam to bed and made sure he had enough covers for the cold Minnesota November. "Snug as a bug …" he started.

"In a rug," Sam finished. "You go night-night, too?" he asked.

"Not yet kiddo," Jim answered. "Your Uncle Jim has to do some reading for the sermon this Sunday."

"Okay," Sam smiled. "Night-night, sss…sweet dreams," he said as he nestled into his covers.

"Goodnight Sammy, sweet dreams, too. Love you." Sam smiled.

"Love you too Uncle Jim … you're the bestest Uncle in the world." Jim chuckled.

"Best Uncle Sammy," he corrected. "Not bestest. And, thank you."

"Bbb…best," Sam tried the corrected word and Jim nodded in approval.

"Okay, close those peepers and sleep young man. You know what tomorrow is … don't you," his voice almost teasing. Sam smiled from ear to ear.

"Ppp…pancake Saturday," he grinned.

"Yep, bright and early as usual. I'll even warm the syrup."

"Mmm," Sam replied.

Jim turned the light off and glanced back one more time at Sam who had already closed his eyes and nestled up to his favorite stuffed toy of choice these days, a Star Wars Yoda doll that spoke a few Yoda lines if you pinched his hand in just the right spot. Sam looked so young in the half light creeping in from the hallway. It was easy to forget he was really twenty-seven. He smiled and left the door slightly cracked and walked down the hallway shutting off the light and settled in on the couch in the parlor to read over the selected Bible passages for Sunday's service.

**Later the Next Morning, 9:40 AM**

Sam rolled over in his bed and stretched. He wasn't great at telling time but he knew his numbers … school had tried to teach how to tell time and Jim showed him, too. He looked at the bright red numbers on his clock in his room and saw the numbers 9:40 and knew that pancake Saturday always happened when the numbers said 8:00 that way he always had time to watch his favorite cartoon that started when the clock numbers said 9:00. Sam made his way down the hallway sniffing the air trying to find the tall tale signs of Uncle Jim cooking, but he smelled nothing. He went to the kitchen and frowned when he saw nothing. He worked his way back to Jim's room and found the bed made and no sign of his uncle.

Sam walked toward the parlor in the front of the house and grinned. Jim was asleep on the couch with his Bible neatly lying open and face down on his chest with a single hand holding it in place. This wasn't an unfamiliar sight to Sam, as he'd found his uncle asleep on the couch before when he'd stayed up late preparing for sermons or lectures. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the coffee table facing his uncle. He gently pulled the Bible out from under Jim's hand and closed it setting it on the table next to him. "Uncle Jim," Sam's spoke. Jim didn't move. "Uncle Jim," Sam spoke louder and reached a hand out and patted his uncle's flannel shirt. "Wake up," Sam voice was bright. Jim didn't move. Sam scrunched his forehead and studied his uncle for a long moment. He looked peaceful and appeared to be sound asleep. He reached up and touched his uncle's face and he jerked his hand back at the coldness there, "Uncle Jim?" It was more of a question now.

Sam stared at his uncle and noticed his chest was still, "Uncle Jimmy," he pleaded louder. "Time for ppp…pancakes … wake up…" Sam felt confusion at the situation while some small part of him understood something wasn't right. "Please," Sam's begged as confused and frightened tears sprang to his eyes. Sam thought back to how still Duncan had been two months ago when he walked out to the porch to wake the dog who appeared to be sleeping on his favorite outside pillow on the porch … it was Jim that had explained to Sam why Duncan wouldn't wake up … he had gone to heaven because he was old. He recalled the stillness in Duncan and the unnerving coolness.

**Ten Minutes Later**

Sam sat staring at his uncle rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped tightly around himself in some form of self comforting. Sam stopped and kneeled down on his knees and leaned forward resting his head on his uncle's chest. He closed his eyes finding comfort in both the familiar feel of Jim's soft flannel and the fact it still contained a gentle scent of his uncle's aftershave. "Bye-bye, Uncle Jim, bye-bye," Sam murmured into the shirt as he nestled closer. He lifted his head and looked into his uncle's pale yet peaceful face, "Tell Daddy I say Hi," his lower lip quivered and he lowered his head once again onto Jim's chest.

**A Few Minutes Later**

Sam stood in the kitchen staring at the phone. He had been taught his own number and how to dial 911 for help and Jim had shown him the button that was programmed to call Dean when pushed. Sam lifted the cordless phone out of its charging cradle and hit the button that called his brother. The phone rang once, twice and on the third ring Sam heard his big brother's voice. "Hello?"

"Ddd…Dean," Sam's voice caught in his throat.

"Sammy?" Dean picked up on the timbre of his little brother's voice immediately. "Sammy, what wrong?"

"He not wake up. I think he asleep, but he not … he go to heaven," Sam rambled at a rapid fire pace and Dean could hear the fear and confusion in his brother's voice, but it was tempered with something else, grief.

"Slow down Sammy," Dean urged. "It's okay. What's wrong with Jim?"

"He go to heaven," Sam's voice sounded almost pleading into the phone … pleading for his brother to understand, so he wouldn't have to keep saying it.

"Sammy, I need you to hang up and call 911 and tell them Uncle Jim is sick and needs help, okay? I'm on my way."

"No," Sam asserted. "No help, Uncle Jim gone bye-bye … he go to heaven. He like Duncan was on porch," Sam lamented. It finally sunk in with Dean that his little brother was trying to tell him that there was no help to give that Jim was already gone, beyond help.

"Okay, okay," Dean comforted as best he could. "Sammy, listen to me kiddo, I'm on my way over … can you do your big brother a favor?"

"Yes," Sam hiccupped on the edge of crying again.

"I want you to sit out on the porch, okay? Put on your jacket and hood. Go, sit on the porch swing and wait for me. I want you to stay on the porch swing until I get there … can you do that for me?"

"Yes," his voice quavering.

"Good," Dean soothed. "Good boy, I'm leaving right now. Now, hang up and go out on the porch swing."

"Okay."

**Four Days Later, Jim's House**

There was a huge turn out for the family and friends gathering after Jim's memorial service and burial at the cemetery. Dean had been able to find a plot not far from his father's to bury Jim. He had considered the church cemetery where Jim had long spent his life, but it seemed more fitting that Jim lie near his friend, his family. His stone had been a rush delivery and was present for the burial.

James (Jim) Allen Murphy

1952-2010

_Man of God, Loving Uncle and friend_

_Forever in our Hearts_

The medical examiner had said it was a brain hemorrhage, and that it had been a peaceful death in his sleep. There would have been no pain and Dean was comforted by that fact. It seemed like the entire city of Blue Earth had shown to pay their respects at both the service and the gathering afterward at Jim's place. Dean looked out the parlor window and could see that Sam had sat down on the porch swing at the far end of the porch away from the crowds of mostly strangers and both Caitlin and John sat on each side flanking their uncle. They sat quietly as if sensing Sam needed the silent support. "Jules?"

"Yeah?" she said as she put down a fresh tray of finger sandwiches.

"I'm going to go talk to Sammy, okay?"

"Yeah, I hope you can get him to say more than two words. I'm worried about him."

"Yeah, me too." Dean had been concerned for his little brother's silence. He hadn't had much to say since Jim died and had even withdrawn a little.

He walked out the front door nodding at certain people who waved or offered a sympathetic smile of support as they filtered into the house. "Hey gremlins," Dean looked at his children. "Why don't you go inside and see if Mommy needs any help, so I can talk to your Uncle Sammy for a little bit." Both children nodded and without question started to get up. They knew their father was here for their uncle now. Caitlin leaned in and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek.

"Smile Uncle Sammy," she urged. "Me and Johnny miss you." She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. He hugged her back unwilling to ignore his niece.

"So," Dean began. "Let's take a walk Sammy," he urged and put both his hands down to offer a hand up to his brother. "Come on, we'll go walk by the pond and talk."

They stood by the water looking out at the silent pond. It hadn't snowed yet this year and November wasn't as cold as it usually was and Dean was thankful for that. "Talk to me Sammy," Dean encouraged. "I miss your voice." Sam looked at his older brother.

"My fault," he whispered.

"What? Sammy, none of this is your fault. Remember I told you uncle Jim had something happen in his head and that's why he went to heaven to be with Dad and Mom."

"But, I up late that night … he tired and had to read for ccc…church…."

"Hey, stop right there kiddo," Dean grasped his brother's chin firmly while remaining gentle. "You did nothing wrong, I promise you that, okay? This isn't your fault, none of it."

"Promise?" Sam looked at his brother for confirmation.

"I promise," Dean pulled Sam into a hug. He felt his younger sibling relax into him and he started rubbing comforting circles on Sam's back and held him as he cried.

"Miss Uncle Jim," Sam cried.

"I know Sammy, me too."

**Seven Months Later, June 2011**

"I'm happy," Julie said suddenly as she and Dean sat on the porch swing watching Sam and the children play a game of Marco Polo in the front yard. Dean had inherited Jim's entire estate when he died and they had moved into Jim's house. Sam hadn't had anymore visions and some part of Dean doubted it would stay that way, but he also knew he'd handle that when or of it happened. He had a legion of old family friends, and hunters that had known Jim and his Dad and they would help him protect Sam and his family. Dean knew one day he'd have to disclose his family's history to his children. He hated that, but they should be told and he knew that maybe one day should anything happen to him in the distant future; he'd want his grown children to look after his little brother, their uncle and make sure he was never institutionalized because he couldn't manage his own affairs. Sam was doing well in his studies at school and Dean wanted to make sure that his brother was given every opportunity to thrive in every possible aspect of life. He made sure Sam felt loved, secure and knew joy. His children were growing up healthy, strong and happy. He watched his brother laugh out loud on the front lawn as the new family dog, a chocolate colored Labrador puppy frolicked about behind Caitlin and John as they each took turns yelling _…Polo…_ to their uncle's _Marco, _as they ran around their uncle who was blindfolded.

"Me too," Dean answered. As Dean watched Sam's dimpled grin. It made him smile, too. Dean still thought back to that horrible day in 1994 at Mile Lacs Lake … in a way three lives had ended that day, Sam's, his, and their father's. Yet, in that loss there had been a resurrection of sorts, a rebirth into a new life and despite what they had all lost that day and Sam's physical and mental obstacles caused by the drowning they had all thrived in such unexpected ways. Lives had been redirected and despite the tragedy that occurred in 1994, and the high cost paid by them all, especially Sammy, Dean could only be thankful for the unexpected turn their lives took that fateful day and embrace the life he and his little brother had been given as a result of untimely events. Because of Sam's unbidden sacrifice that day Dean felt he had been given a life he could have never hoped for, a life filled with enjoyment, a family, and love. He loved and knew he owed his little brother, so much.

His mind sank back to the final words of an older movie his wife loved and made him watch at least once a month on DVD, _Message in a Bottle_, he had never really understood the final sentiment of the film until this very moment, _"if lives form a perfect circle, others take shape in ways we cannot predict or always understand. Loss has been apart of my journey, but has also shown me what is precious, so has a love for which I can only be grateful."_

And he was.

**The End**

**Well, not my usual story … I had never tried a Weechester through the years arc before, but it was something that was asking to be written, so I couldn't deny its request … for bad or good that's it for this story. I have several other ideas for new stories, now I only have to find the time to write them. My schedule is still pretty daunting, so anything new I write will probably be completely finished before I post it otherwise you may be forced to wait for weeks at a time between posts and I won't do that to you, but should that change I might consider starting something and trying to update every few days, we'll see.**

**I hope you enjoyed the story and my apologies for any parts you feel were glossed or hurried. I know you probably would have liked some more visions and/or demon action, but this was never meant to be about how they confront the demon or face the war. If I hadn't advanced this story and cut to the chase in some parts it would have never been finished. **

**I want to extend a big thank you to everyone that took the time to read and review. Thanks! I appreciate it!**


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